


Feinting on Your Blind Side

by TheOneKrafter



Series: Feinting, but it’s actually Fainting [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anxiety, But only a little, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Humor, I just wanted a iron bull romance and no one was delivering, Modern Girl in Thedas, Self-Insert, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Smut, Sort Of, because apparently my banter is too chuckle worthy for angst, feelings though?, its bull, it’s not slow burn on the physical stuff, mostly lighthearted, oc-insert, so here it is, they’re both allergic, very lighthearted honestly, what do you expect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:09:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25222183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOneKrafter/pseuds/TheOneKrafter
Summary: You know what most MGITs do? They fix everything. They waltz up to the Inner Circle and use their power and charm to just fix it all. Or they’re made Inquisitor.Me? I chose to be a servant. Because normal people like me don’t just get stupid magic and stupid stabbing abilities.Damn it all.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Iron Bull/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Feinting, but it’s actually Fainting [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838428
Comments: 236
Kudos: 568
Collections: Best of Fanfiction, Favorite Self-Insert and OC-Centric Fanfics





	1. Almost Fainting

**Author's Note:**

> This has literally only been made because I can’t find what I want, so I’m making it. If I ever convince any of you I’m making a fic for any other reason than no one else will, then I’m lying.
> 
> Here’s a review that basically sums up the book
> 
> @candlewacks:  
> jane, doing and saying interesting things: see im soooo ordinary. i promise you im not interesting. i swear to g-d im duller than dull. id say my level of ordinary is off the charts but nothing about me is off the charts.  
> revis, extremely entertained: sure thing jane theres absolutely nothing about you that screams extraordinary. nothing at all. not your nice skin or nice teeth or booksmarts

I expected Bull to be tall, but I underestimated my being short. 

My brain has to chant dutifully “you’re supposed to be here” for me to not bolt at the sight of him from where I’m holding his bedding. Nervous people get noticed and people think they’re spies and-

“Uh, hello,” I say weakly, then turn back to my task. Speed, speed, escape! Can’t escape until I’ve got this stupid sheet off.

Man I wish I were a better fighter, then I wouldn’t have to be a servant and be near scary people who I know better than I really should. I could 

“Here, lemme help you with that,” Bull offers, coming over. 

“Oh you don’t have to,” I say quickly, but he’s already pulling it off and holding it out to me. 

“The whole point of servants is not having to do things,” I grumble, adjusting the bedding in my arms to add it. 

“Oh?” Bull asks, and I have to look up to make eye contact with him. 

I awkwardly grimace. 

“Ah, nevermind, thank you for your assistance, Ser,” And with that I’m making my hurried escape out the door. 

I’m out on the battlements and taking the steps two at a time to ignore my fear of heights. It’s cold and I’m starkly reminded of how ass I am. 

You know what a normal MGIT would be doing? Kicking ass, taking names, be semi competent. Me? Useless. 

I can shoot a bow at targets who aren’t moving. Sword is too heavy for my noodle arms. Daggers mean getting close to people and things that want to kill me. And you have to have charisma to do anything else of use. 

So here I am. Being a servant. Carrying The Iron Bull’s bedding. And I _still_ haven’t built any callous in the four months I’ve been here. 

Useless. Super duper useless. And without magic. 

Well, at least the Herald, er, Inquisitor, seems to be doing fine on her own?

Unfortunately she’s in Solvellan hell, but, well, sucks to be her?

The alternative is me, a random servant, telling her how to run her romantic life and something tells me that would backfire. 

She’ll be fine!

Probably. 

I slip through a servants entrance and climb some more stairs, mentally trying to remember where the laundry room is. 

Was it to the right? Probably. I think. Oh fuck it, it’ll be fine. Worse thing that happens is I run into someone important and die. 

Oh god, imagine walking in on one of Solas’s secret spy meetings. Nope. Nope nope nope. Let’s hope I’m going the right way. 

I make it to the laundry room without dying, though, and get started on the bedding. 

I’ve been ignoring it out of politeness, but yeah, these smell a ton like sex and the faster I wash that out the sooner I don’t have to smell it. 

I push black sleeves of my baggy shirt up as far as they’ll go and thank Solas for having running pipes throughout his stupid castle. 

I fill up the washing tub and toss the bedding in the steaming water, turning to grab some of the soap. 

—

A pro of having running water? No one can stop me if I want to bathe everyday. I’m the best smelling motherfucker on this mountain. 

Well, besides Madame Vivienne, probably, but she’s the exception, not the standard.

Humming a tune because I feel _clean_ and _fresh_ , I open the Iron Bull’s door, register that that is definitely some hanky panky, and close the door again. 

“Nope.”

I turn on my heel and decide cleaning up can wait. Because I refuse to think about naked people more than I have to. 

Does this mean I have a break? This definitely means I have a break. 

No one is stopping this break. 

I make my way to the library with the airs of someone who really doesn’t want to be noticed, and step into the main hall. 

Varric’s at his table, nobles are tittering about, and those are _definitely_ soldiers waiting for the Inquisitor to do judgement on… er, who’s on the Inquisition’s bad side this time? Is it Crestwood’s mayor?

Probably. And it’s also none of my business. 

I open the door to the roundetta and blanch. 

More couples doing couple-y things? Really?

I slip past Solas and the Inquisitor who are definitely flirting a _lot_ , and up into the library. 

I breathe a sigh of relief. _Safety._

Dorian is spying on them. Nope. None of my _business._

I go to the shelf with a bunch of history books and grab the biggest one I can. I’ve got either an hour to two hours before I need to check Bull’s room again, then I’ll have to tidy up the Commander’s room. 

Oh god, Leliana probably screened me heavily to let me do that. That’s terrifying. Nevermind. 

I curl up in the corner of the alcolove and open the book, praying for some peace. 

—

I decide to knock this time, because I’ve had enough trauma for the day. 

“It’s open!”

That’s good. I hope. Please don’t be naked. You weren’t naked last week, I have no clue why you were today. 

I open the door with a visible look of dread, and pretend I’m not relieved when Bull seems to be fully clothed and sharpening his maul. 

“Enjoy the show?”

Enjoy the-? No. Not at all. 

“I’m not paid enough,” I mutter bleakly, heading to grab the bedding instead of acknowledging that comment. 

Bull laughs. Why is he laughing? I feel like a bug under a magnifying glass. It’s not a comfy feeling. 

I try not to think about how I knew the dude he’d been doing the devil’s tango with. Two people I know being naked in front of me? Terrible. 

“Aw come on, where’s the sass from last week?” Bull asks, good natured. 

Sass? I was shaking like a leaf. Who has time for sass near very very tall horned men?

“Should I tell you jokes?” I ask sarcastically. “Am I here for your entertainment?”

He lifts an eyebrow, I promptly snap back to focusing on the task at hand. Is that- is that _wax_? Oh I know much more than I ever wanted about Revis’s tastes now. 

My expression must show my incredulousness, because Bull takes it as an opening to talk more. 

Ugh, why couldn’t I have been assigned to Vivienne’s room? She wouldn’t even look at me. 

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout the spillage, you can get it off, right?”

“It’s wax, it’ll be fine,” I state. “Why aren’t you ignoring me?”

I really wish he would. I don’t know how to… _people._ Especially since I’m a servant now. 

Logically I know why he isn’t. He’s not a stuck up Noble, he’s willing to talk to normal people. Qun doesn’t care about stuff like nobles do. 

But I would very much like to be left alone. It’s much simpler. 

“Am I supposed to?” Bull asks. 

“Er, usually?” 

The Commander never talks to me. A shining example, that man. 

Bull grunts. “Southerners.”

Agreed on that front, Bull. Agreed. 

—

I blink, slowly. 

“Why are you bleeding…?” I ask.

“Eh, it’s nothing.”

It’s nothing-?? It’s on the bed. He’s bleeding on the _bed._

“Can you do it… _not_ on the bedding…?” I ask. 

“Oh, shit, forgot about that,” Bull says, rolling off the bed. He has a slash down his arm. Why? Why me?

I resist the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose, but it’s a close thing. 

“Shouldn’t it be bandaged?” I continue, still standing at the doorway. “Blood loss is bad, I’ve heard. Along with infections.”

“You’ve heard?” Bull asks dryly. 

Man, I’m gonna need to soak that blanket in cold water. 

“You’re the one who gets stabbed for a living,” I mutter, walking over and grabbing the bedding. 

“Hey now, not everyone can wash bedding,” Bull says. 

I’m bantering with a big Qunari man in a video game. Kill me. 

“I also sweep and mop floors,” I state blandly. 

“Is that dissatisfaction I hear?” He asks. 

I look over, and see he’s finally applying some sort of salve to the cut. 

“Oh yes. How dissatisfied I am, with my current employment, I say to one of my employers. However could that go wrong?”

There goes mouth, ruining everything for the rest of this body. Inconsiderate prick. 

Bull laughs though, so I assume I’m staying on payroll. 

“Were you at Haven? Could’ve sworn I’ve seen you before,” Bull says while I pull off his sheets. 

“Yes?” I say, unsure of what else I should say after that. 

In Haven I ran messages for Lady Josephine along with tended to the nobles. There wasn’t much path crossing with Bull. 

Bull doesn’t question me further though, and I head out. 

—

I’ve mastered finding places where I can’t be bothered. Example? 

I hum under my breath, face in a book on the fade sitting cross legged in a forgotten corridor of the castle’s interior. 

It’s an unused hallway, which I know thanks to the few cobwebs and the dusty floor. 

My ‘person coming near’ senses go haywire though, and I look to my right to see-

Oh _noooo_.

That’s definitely Solas, and he blinks surprised at the sight of me. 

“I don’t tell, you don’t tell,” I say before I can stop myself, holding out a hand to shake. 

A smile pulls at his lips, and _I’m_ surprised now. 

He takes my hand, shakes it, and goes on his silent way, not looking back. 

I look back at my book and start humming again, cause it’s none of my _goddamn_ business what he’s doing. 

So. I haven’t mastered not getting bothered. But for some reason I’ve probably got a latent protagonist curse and I’m not aggravating it by seeking danger. 

I flip a page, and grimace. These diagrams ain’t cute. 

—

I knock, because I’ve learned. 

“It’s open!”

Please don’t be naked. 

I open the door. 

Oh! Not naked!

What a triumph for unwilling eyes everywhere. 

He’s sharpening a new maul, the Inquisitor probably made or found a better one. 

“What?” He asks. 

“I was thinking about how happy I am you have pants on,” I say, closing the door and going to the bed. 

He chuckles. It’s a chuckle of _sin._

“You’d be in the minority.”

Blegh. 

Though I’d be real willing to ride the Bull if I weren’t such an awkward fuck. Stands that there’s no point in doing that though. 

“I don’t wanna know, Ser. I really don’t,” I say as I pull the pillowcases off the pillows. 

“Alright alright,” He pauses. “You sure?”

“What, do you want me to say ‘oh yes please, I would _love_ to ride the Bull, take me!’” I say in a convincingly wanting voice. 

I was a theatre kid, alright? Plus, if I couldn’t act I wouldn’t have gotten this far. 

The look on his face says it was too convincing. 

“That was a joke. Do not proceed to ravage me, Ser.”

I don’t know how he got me down to my dry sarcastic insides so fast, most people take at least a month, but it probably has to do with my already knowing him. 

“Only because you asked nicely,” He says with a blink that’s probably a wink. 

Has this been flirting? Have I been flirting with him? Someone put me out of my misery. 

I shake my head and gather up his blanket and _stupid_ sheets. Why do I always have problems with specifically _these_ sheets?

“Need help?” He asks. 

I grimace. 

“Perhaps,” I state. 

Then he’s over here getting it off with ease. What am I doing wrong? Do they just not like me??

I look over at his too big hands. That’s probably the damn problem, my baby hands. 

“What?” Bull asks, setting the sheets on top of my pile. 

“Your hand is bigger than my face,” I say, before shaking my head and turning to leave. 

Weird. Too weird. 

—

The one time I walk in the tavern the Inner Circle is in it. The _one fucking time._

I stifle my existential dread and walk onward, ignoring them and ordering a drink. You know what all that ruckus is?

 _None of my_ **_goddamn_ ** _business_. 

“Something that will knock me out, please,” I plead with Gatt. 

“Coming right up,” Gatt says with the knowing look only bartenders can have. 

I don’t drink usually, alright? I’m a godly and good and pious-

Well I’m none of those but that’s not the point. 

Solas keeps… walking past my hiding places. It’s like we’re on the same hiding place wavelength. If it keeps happening he’s either going to kill me or talk to me, and I straight up don’t know which is worse. 

Bull’s loud laughter carries across the bar. 

Talking. Talking is worse. 

Gatt sets something down in front of me that smells like it’d peel paint. 

I have over my coins and just down it. 

Oh that _burns._ Ow. Ow ow ow. 

“Well that’s one way to do it,” I choke out, and Gatt laughs. It’s a triumph considering his personality is so acidic. 

Varric’s telling a Kirkwall story right now, and from my glance most of the table is riveted, including her Inquisitorialness. 

Man. I wanna go home. 

I down some more of my drink that’s probably going to kill my liver by itself, and resist the urge to hit my head against the counter. 

People senses. Going off. 

I look to my right with a sigh. 

Yep. That’s a person. A horned person. 

“Looking rough there,” Bull says in greeting. 

“Ser, I’m not being paid, and do not have enough energy,” I say dryly. 

He lifts an eyebrow, and then hands me one of the big coins they have. What were they called? Sovereign?

“Whatever would you like to talk about, Ser The Iron Bull?” I ask, pocketing the coin and playing attentive. 

“What’s got you down?” Bull asks. 

I chuckle. Honest to god chuckle. 

“The world is ending. Had you not noticed?” I ask, leaning my chin against my propped up palm. “Might have to do with the missing eye, Ser.”

“Very funny,” Bull says in a dry tone that could almost rival mine. I down some more of whatever I’m drinking. 

I can buy new shoes with that sovereign, all for my dignity! Well, not really, it’s free money. 

Bull sits down. Why can’t he sit with the damn Inquisitor? I’m distinctly less interesting than the lady with a green night light on her hand. 

“The usual, Gatt,” he says, and then he’s got a cup of what I have in his hand. 

_Twinsies_. Can you hear the sarcasm? Can you hear it?

“So. You know my name, and I don’t know yours.”

I sigh. “Must I? If you have my name you may continue to appear outside of work.”

He drinks some of his drink and gives me a look. 

“Fine, fine. Jane, Ser, do try not to wear it out,” I introduce myself. 

Plain Jane. Oh how I wish that were so. Plain Janes don’t get tossed into video games. 

Am I knocked out yet? All I feel is tired. 

“You can just call me The Iron Bull,” Bull says. 

I lift an eyebrow. Now I’ll never call him that. 

“Ser it is. Have you sated your unending curiosity? Will you return to your very imposing friends?” 

“Aw, am I that bad of company?” He asks.

“Which response gives me the peace to knock myself out on booze?” I ask dryly. “ _Yes_ , Ser Iron Bull, I’m terrified of your large, manly hands. Someone _save_ me.’” The fake wanton woman voice is back with a vengeance. 

Can you hear it? Sarcasm. I love it. It’s a balm on my soul. Oh, yup, feeling the drowsy, I’m drunk. 

I drink the rest of my mug, give Bull a quick salute, and head out the door. Freedom! So close! So is sleep. Easy, easy sleep. 

And then a stumble. Damn it all. Someone end this existence mine, for it becomes more unbearable by the moment. 

From the big hand that straightens me up, and the laughing, I clearly said that aloud. 

“Oh fuck it all,” I grumble, pinching the bridge of my nose. 

“I’m down,” Bull adds, the unhelpful man that he is. 

“Don’t make me bruise your ego, Ser, I’m sure I can come up with something,” I state as I’m helped out the door. 

Stupid faulty limbs. This _is_ my fault, thanks to the alcohol, but when have I admitted to my mistakes?

—

I look up from my quiet spot where I’m certain no wolves could show up, and sigh. 

“I admit, it is odd we continue to run into each other,” Solas says. 

“I’m not asking a single question, I like body not set aflame, or whatever you Mages favor,” I state. 

Talking. _Terrible_. 

“What are you reading?” He asks, instead of acknowledging my very valid worries. 

“A circle textbook. The practice in finding the propaganda is fun,” I say, pretending I’m not making myself interesting and therefore murderable. 

He lifts his eyebrows. 

“Oh?”

“Please don’t set me on fire.”

“What gave you the impression I would?”

“The skulking about. Though I could be wrong, you could be skulking for very good reason. Which is none of my business.”

“I am not a danger to you.”

I laugh nervously, because mouth does whatever it wants and leaves the rest of this body to scramble. 

“All men are dangerous to a servant. What gave you the impression you weren’t?” I shake my head, standing from my seat and chancing speed walking away. 

Dramatic, I know, but you have to get the latent protagonist curse out somehow. 

—

It was smart on my part to imply my wariness towards Solas was a “men are scary” thing. Men _are_ scary, alright? Everyone is fucking taller than me here thanks to some fade bullshit probably, so I am rightfully wary of people I don’t know. 

The Inner Circle are fine, ignoring their other quirks that would make me wary. All the burly soldiers? _Hell no._

What sucks though, is I have to walk past him everytime I go to the library. And it sets the person senses _off._

He’s not _looking_ at me, but I know he’s _thinking_. Ugh. I should’ve played all meek from the start and flitted off, like a normal disenfranchised servant person. 

I switch out my circle textbook for another one, this tome on demonic possession since I wanna see how wrong and right it is, and jump when I see a Pavus reading over my soldier. 

“ _Christ have mercy- put on a bell, Altus!_ ” I stammer, shoulders high and a second from bolting. 

He raises his eyebrows, because of course he would. No one ever gets the Altus thing right. 

_Ughhhh_. 

“Oh, so someone does know the difference between Altus and Magister this far south?” He asks, smirking. 

Someone stab me. Not gently, just shove it in there and leave me to bleed out. 

“Er… perhaps?” I say, before realizing I’m clutching the circle textbook to my chest for comfort. 

Which, probably not a good idea. Who knows what’s happened to this book? Or near this book. 

“Oh, no sneers?” He asks. 

“No? What idiot sneers at-” I cut myself off, shaking my head. No point. 

“No. No sneers, Ser. I don’t think spooking me warrants… _sneers._ ”

“Oh, and the being Tevinter doesn’t in itself?” He asks, head tilting. He wants me to be a dick now and avoid the hurting later. Defense mechanism. 

I frown, and then my mouth decides to inconvenience this body **_again_ **. 

“No. We can’t help where we’re born,” I say. “Uh, if you excuse me.”

And with that I’m escaping again! Because. Reasons. 

With the knowledge I have I could endear them to me with ease. It wouldn’t even be _hard._

That’s wrong. It’s wrong to know real people so intimately who’ve never seen me in their life. Best be away from them and avoid the trouble. 

Man, I just wanna go be normal somewhere. Or have the balls to try and fix this royal mess. 

As is, I’m stuck in a video game except it’s real, which unfortunately means I’m just the same old me. 

Plain Jane. Whoop whoop. 

—

“ _If they see, will they kill me? Will it have been for nothing? Fabric on skin, green green green, I’m afraid of being alone._ ”

Oh no. No no nope. 

“Nope. Don’t, Cole, do not,” I hiss, snapping my head over to the lanky boy who’s appeared in the thankfully empty room. 

“You’re bright like the herald, but different. _Secrets, crawling, aching, scuttling along the brain._ You love them?” Cole asks. 

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. 

I’m hyperventilating. Uh oh. 

Oh, I can’t stop. Oh dear. 

“I’m sorry, I pulled wrong! Let me do it over-!” Cole says, distressed, and I shake my head quickly. 

“No,” I gasp for breath in between words. “Please. Leave my hurty bits, _alone_.”

Cole doesn’t mean harm but one word and Leliana is carting me to the dungeons where I’d be tortured or have my fingernails plucked or- or-!

“She wouldn’t! That was a book, just words, you are too tiny!” Cole says, trying to comfort me. 

Too tiny?? Oh god what does _that_ mean?

“No one is going to hurt you!” Cole says. 

_Everyone can hurt me._

People senses. 

I’ve got my hand to my mouth crouched on the ground, maybe trying to stabilize my breathing? Probably? Oh god I’m gonna die. 

“Woah, you alright there Jane?” 

Oh great it’s _Bull._

“I plucked too hard on the hurts!” Cole says, still very distressed. “She sees me, I can’t make her forget!”

“Shit, just leave, Cole,” Bull says, waving him away. 

Alone? With a Qunari _spy_???

“She’s scared of you, it won’t help!” Cole says, the unhelpful person he is. 

“I’m, fine, Ser,” I say, trying to _breathe._ Fuck me. 

“You’re crouched on the floor hyperventilating,” Bull says, keeping a safe distance and making himself smaller. How nice. 

I laugh. Because honestly what has my life come to?

“Hey, breathe with me, okay? In, out,” Bull says in a soothing voice, very out of character for him. 

I follow his instructions, breathing slowly. My stupid stupid hands are shaking. 

Oh god Cole is gone, what if he got the _Inquisitor?_

I’m gonna faint. 

“Hey, hey, focus on my voice. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

If I pretend, will it _really_ be fine?

I miss my parents. And my stupid bed. And cars. Well, not cars, but that’s not the _point_. 

Somehow I steady my breathing, though, and curse my stupid stupid anxiety at the same time. 

“Sorry, Ser,” I say, because what else is there to say?

“You know you don’t have to call me that, right?” Bull asks. “And there’s nothing to apologize for.”

I make a face, I won’t even pretend that I don’t. 

“Titles create distance,” I state, still shuddering with leftover jitters. “And you twitch everytime I say it.”

“Cause you’re scared?” He asks. “The titles.”

Well, yes. 

“Big tall man,” I say, pointing to him. “Tiny woman,” I continue, pointing to me. “I don’t trust anyone I can’t fight.”

He nods, accepting it easily. Why? Ugh. Just finish me off, god. 

It’s really not personal, Bull would never, but. Spy. Spy who could see right through me and drag me to the Spymaster. 

“You need help up?” He asks, back to his normal talking voice. 

No. 

Yes. I feel lightheaded. 

“Perhaps,” I say, feeling exhausted. 

“I’m just touching your hand,” He warns, taking it and pulling me to my feet. How considerate. 

Y’know. The past five minutes have been mortifying, now that I think about it. 

“Hey?” He's still talking. 

I look up at Bull. 

“Feint on my blind side and go low. I’ll go down.”

My eyes widen. 

“You can’t just _tell_ people that!” I say, half frantic. 

He shrugs. “Now you can fight me.”

Oh. That’s actually kind of comforting. 

I run a hand down my face. 

“I’m going to go pretend this never happened for an hour. Your bedding is made, Ser.”

Escape! Speedy!


	2. Sometimes it Do be like That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote 5 thousand more words. Here you go.

“No. Nope. Not doing it.”

Revis is very insistent, though, unfortunately. 

“Come on, it’s just for this shift, Jane!”

_ Noooooo _ . 

“You know how I am with loud places full of  _ drunk _ people,” I state, wondering if all this is punishment for my escapism thing. No normal person ingests the amount of books I do. Especially the amount of fanfiction before. 

“Please? I’ll owe you one?” Revis says, and I, an idiot, cave. 

“ _ Fine _ ,” I agree. And Revis’s pretty boy face brightens up immediately. 

“You’re the best, Jane. I do owe you!” 

I’m gonna fight god. I’m gonna do it. And I’ll win. 

Well, probably not win, but maybe make him bleed a little? Or her. Or… them.

Revis is skipping off, and I wonder why I’m so nice. 

Right, because I have morals. Damn my morals. 

I head towards the tavern and try not to bang my head on the nearest hard object. 

—

No one tries to grab my ass at least, which I’m thankful for. It still smells of booze and regret, though, unfortunately for my nose. 

I’m even humming before I get waved over to Bull. 

How do you interact with someone who helped you through a panic attack, you ask?

… don’t acknowledge that it happened. That’s how. 

“What’ll it be, Ser?” I ask, leaning a shoulder against one of the poles holding the upper levels up. 

“My usual. You covering Revis’s shift?” Bull asks. 

“Yup, he’s off doing…  _ something _ ? I didn’t ask, I couldn’t think past his pitiful expression,” I state simply. “I’ll be right back with your drink.”

Oh actually I probably should’ve asked him. 

I think back on when I walked in on him and Bull, and suddenly, I don’t want to know!

Sometimes you just have to singsong “ _ None of my  _ **_GODDAMN_ ** _ business :) _ ” in your head over and over again and pretend everything’s just fine.

(It’s not, it’s really really not.)

“So, you doing alright?” Bull asks, because of course he is, when I bring back his drink. 

“I live in a constant state of panic hidden by layers of resting bitch face,” I say blandly. “So yeah, pretty alright, how about you?”

He laughs. Wooh. 

“That’s one way to go about it. Sorry about Cole, he’s-“

I cut him off. “It’s not his fault. The whole being able to read my mind thing just… overwhelmed me.”

Bull grunts in agreement. “Yeah, it’s unnerving.”

And with that, I get back to my shift that was supposed to be Revis’s, thinking about what book I’ll grab from the library next. 

—

Revis definitely had me take his shift so he could get boned, which, I mean, good for him, but gross imagery. 

The Winter Palace shit is coming up soon. 

I hope, desperately, Lavellan can get that court approval, because it’ll be bad if she can’t. 

As far as I can tell she has a sharp wit and got the nobles, underworld, and mage knowledge. So she should be fine?

God, I hope she’s fine. She’s not one of my Inquisitors. I just want her and the Inner Circle to be  _ okay.  _ They deserve to have a good life until Solas decides to go all Elvhen Glory! ™. 

I probably deserve to have a good life too until the world inevitably falls apart again, but I’m really not too concerned about me. 

People senses. Please don’t be Solas. He’ll question me. I do  _ not _ want to be questioned by him. 

Nope. That’s Cole. Oh noooo. Why in the fourth dusty corridor I’ve had to sneak off to? Is there no being alone in this big ass castle?

“I’m sorry,” Cole says, and suddenly four books are set down before me. 

I cautiously peer at the name of the one on top of the stack. The perk up and start flipping through it. 

“Oooo, advanced theories on the veil- where’d you find these?” I ask, looking over at the now crouched boy. 

“Speaking the hurts aloud made you more scared… so I found a way to make you feel like you know more? Isn’t the knowing and not knowing the scary part?”

That doesn’t answer my question but…

“Thank you, Cole. I didn’t mean to… make you upset. I just don’t want other people hearing what’s in my head,” I say slowly, cautiously. 

“Too many secrets, too much. I’m sorry, it wasn’t for me to tell,” Cole says, anxiously. 

“It’s not your fault, you’re trying to help how you can,” I say, reaching over and patting his shoulder. 

God him even saying the secrets part is freaking me out. What if Solas is around the corner? Or one of Leliana’s agents? Oh god I’m not cut out for this. I should’ve moved to the middle of nowhere and became a hermit. 

...I’m bad at camping, though. 

“Why do you love them, though? It’s all tangled in the hurt,” Cole asks, and I feel my heart rate spike. 

“Is anyone nearby?” I ask quickly, instead of answering. 

“No, it’s just us and the mice,” Cole says seriously. 

Well. It… couldn’t hurt?

“Er, well, you’re all good? Even the wolf, even if he’s a relic of a bygone age who somehow thinks everything else needs to go backwards.”

Cole shakes his head. “But you  _ know _ us. How?”

Oh god how do I even begin to explain that to Cole of all people?

“Well, the best way I can put it is living through the Inquisitor’s eyes?” I say, though it really sounds more like a question. “I know you because I’ve seen it all before?”

I need to keep my voice down. Oh what if there’s spies! I wanna cry. I was never this damn anxious at home. 

Well. That’s a lie, but still. 

Cole blinks his milky eyes owlishly, before nodding. 

“Oh. So that’s why you feel it.  _ Choked down screams. Ma’vhenan, ir’abelas. An untouched grove and mirrors that glow. _ ”

Haha. That’s  _ unnerving _ . 

I laugh nervously. “Yes. Please don’t do that, though, I don’t want the big bad wolf looking at me. Ever. He’d kill me.”

“But you think it’d be worse if he made you a spy?”

Oh Christ even the  _ inside _ inside thoughts?

“Yes. Yes it would be. Which I probably won’t have to deal with because he’s racist,” I say quickly, gathering up the books on the ground into my arms. “Have a nice day, Cole, please don’t say things like that in front of people.”

“If it makes you calmer.”

And with that, neither of us are lingering in that forgotten hallway anymore. 

—

“You do not seem to be a mage.”

Yep. That’s Dorian. 

I look over at him in his chair, and shrug. 

“And yet you read magical texts?” He asks, clearly very curious. 

When the veil comes down everyone will be a mage. 

But that’s not for anyone else to know! Haha. Ha. 

“I’ve never been to Antiva and I still read their history books?” I say, slowly, unsure. 

Dorian grins, because of course he does. 

“Fascinating! I’m open to speak on the subject if you need the perspective of a mage, I don’t doubt those books can get dry.”

Or I could  _ escape.  _

But I also have questions, damn it all!

“How does mana work? Is there a natural amount your body can take in? Or is it like a muscle that can grow?” I ask.

He blinks, looking delighted. Right. Everyone keeps being assholes to him, of course he likes the attention. 

“Take a seat my dear, I think we are going to get along well.”

What, from a couple questions about mana?

Oh to be a mushroom hidden in a forest. Preferably the Arbor Wilds. And poisonous. I would very much like to be poisonous. 

I take a seat in the chair next to his, and proceed to nerd out for the first time in four months, all the while too aware that Leliana’s spies are above me and Solas is below me. 

Now, I may not be good at stabbing and punching and… anything involving physical labor, but I do have a very good brain. 

“I heard about how you had to calculate the spell to get you and the Inquisitor back to our time on the fly, how the  _ hell _ did that work?” I ask, sitting comfortably with the book on the Veil Cole grabbed for me on my lap. 

Dorian preens, I watch him  _ preen.  _

“Oh, well it was no simple thing. I suppose the threat of world ending disaster and death helped,” Dorian says cheerfully. “It required a background very specific to the magic. I had helped craft the original theories, but there were several more advanced equations that would likely go over your head.”

I grimace. Yeah, math? Not my thing. Even if it’s magic math. 

“Probably. It’s still fascinating that with more access to the fade time travel was possible at all, even if it was used for nefarious purposes,” I say, wanting to fiddle with something. Hands. Must. Move. 

Oh! Pencil in my pocket. I start twirling the pencil between my fingers. 

“It is! One could wonder what would be possible without the veil, but, well, we’re learning right now that such things spell doom for all we know,” Dorian says with a sigh. 

“Agreed.” You wanna know how I figured out I was too squishy for demon fighting?

When the breach popped open, I was right next to a rift. I almost got my damn head taken off by a rage demon. 

“So, I see you often come through here to trade out books, what do you do for the inquisition?” Dorian asks. 

“I’m a servant.”

His eyes widen. “A servant? Is the Inquisition simply wasting bright minds now? You could be doing research in the very least,” Dorian says, half incredulous. 

I shrug, because how else do you respond to that. 

“I mean, I’m not  _ that _ useful. And frankly, I prefer not being noticed,” I say. “No one really bothers you when you’re the one who changes their bedding and sweeps the floor.”

With the exception of Bull, because he probably honed in on my not being a normal servant early on. Oh god, what if he thinks I’m a spy or something?

Idiot. He wouldn’t tell a possible spy his weakness. 

Right. Carry on, brain. 

Also I might have underestimated the 21st century educational standards, like an idiot. It’s not my fault, school literally was the worst in comparison to other countries. 

Aw shit, a normal servant can’t carry a conversation on theoretical magic. Dumbass. 

“I suppose that would be convenient,” Dorian says. “You are a flighty one, too much attention and you’ll burst.”

_Too much-_ _and I’ll burst-??_

“I’m not going to  _ burst! _ ” I say, voice becoming higher pitched. 

He reaches over and pats my shoulder in convincing pity. 

“Poor dear, even now. Though, to be fair, you seem to be taking talking to the  _ evil _ Tevinter magister well.”

“Altus, and you’re not evil. If you had bad vibes I’d run away from you,” I say, sending a threatening swat at his hand. 

“Bad vibes you say?” Dorian asks. “What a quaint turn of phrase.”

I wish to be struck down with lightning for my sins, now, please.

Please?

—

I think I’ve made friends with Cole and Dorian. Which… I mean, is fine? Perfectly fine?

I’m trying to not think of the bad things that could happen by doing that. I really am. 

“Your hidden noble shows when you read like that, Jane,” Revis teases, because that’s what he does. 

I look over at him with a huff. “I’m not a noble, my mother made soap, and my father was a carpenter.  _ Not. Noble. _ ”

“That’s exactly what a hidden noble would say. Who else would bathe so often?” Revis asks, lounging on his small bed. 

“ _A_ _woman_. _Who’s_ _mother_. _Made_ ** _soap_**.”

“Lies. I’m sure you know us elves are very good at finding them, it’s the ears,” Revis continues, waving me off. 

“You’re the worst elf I’ve ever seen. You trip around in the dark, Revis. What elf can’t see in the dark?” I tease, shoving a bookmark in my book and closing it with a satisfying  _ clap _ . 

“And you’re the worst human I’ve seen. Fraternizing with  _ rabbits _ ? Tsk tsk tsk,” Revis says, turning on his side to grin at me. 

I level him with an unimpressed stare. 

“Yes, because decency is a trait all but humans share. Forgive me, I’d forgotten,” I say, drier than the Western Approach. 

“You’re forgiven.”

I throw a pillow at him. One of my only two pillows. 

“Oh my, what a generous donation!” 

“Oh no you don’t, pretty boy!” I hiss, getting ready to wrestle my pillow back. 

Well. I suppose  _ some  _ things about Thedas are going fine. Oh god, I need to knock on wood, I’ve jinxed myself. 

—

You ever wanna bop yourself into the shadow realm? Disperse your atoms?

I’m really feeling it right now. 

“We’d like you have a set of our own servants while we’re at the Winter Palace, and you all are well trusted among your peers,” Lady Josephine says with that nice smile of hers. 

I’m gonna dry sob. I’m gonna do it. No one can stop me. 

Revis gives me a look that says my discomfort is clearly visible, but who cares man, I’m going to  _ Orlais.  _ They eat people like me for breakfast there. 

“You will have bonuses for the travel, and will be outfitted to show the inquisition cares for its own, any questions?” Josephine asks. 

Bop me. Bop it, twist it, pull it-

Not the time for the damn bop it commercial,  _ brain.  _

“When are we leaving?” Revis asks.

“In three days.”

I’m gonna.  _ Scream.  _

—

I’m going to pack my little rucksack and run away, bro, I’m tired of this. It’s like fate is saying “haha watch while I inconvenience your plans to be normal, I’m eating popcorn”. 

“Oh! I wasn’t aware you were coming along, Jane!” 

Well. There’s Dorian at least. 

“Keep your voice  _ down _ , Altus, the less people think I’m interesting the better for my sanity,” I say mournfully, looking out at the group of people getting ready to head out. 

“Ah, yes, we can’t have you combusting,” Dorian says now in a much quieter voice, teasing. Always teasing with this man. “I’m afraid you have no choice though, you’re openly speaking to the Tevinter.”

“Oh hang the people who give a shit about that, I’m talking about the ones who can  _ stab _ me. The  _ important _ people,” I grumble, climbing up onto the back of one of the wagons. 

“Important people?” Dorian asks, intrigued. 

“You Inner Circle. You’re all a disaster waiting to happen and I’m concerned it’s  _ contagious _ ,” I state, taking my backpack off and dropping it beside me. 

“That’s hurtful! I like to consider myself a controlled flame. The rest of them, though, you are right about,” Dorian hums, arms crossed in front of me. 

People senses. 

I peer around suspiciously, and spot Bull coming near me with a sigh. 

Dorian turns and follows my gaze. 

“You coming with us as servant detail, huh?” Bull asks in greeting. 

“Unfortunately. It seems I’ll still be changing your bedding, Ser,” I say dryly. 

Two Inner Circle members talking to me. God, I’m going to attract  _ more _ , they’re like a swarm of flies if you aren’t careful. 

Well, actually, that was kind of mean. A swarm of butterflies. Poisonous butterflies. 

“Qunari,” Dorian says in greeting. 

“Vint,” Bull responds. 

Are they gonna start arguing? I don’t wanna be in the middle of that. 

“We’re moving out in five minutes!” The commander’s voice calls. 

“Well, duty calls. See you around, Jane,” Bull says, who walks away while Dorian flares at him. 

“I can’t tell if that’s sexual tension or hate,” I say offhandedly, observing Dorian’s expression go incredulous. 

He sputters. It’s glorious. 

“He is a Qunari!” He says, like it matters. 

“...and?” I ask, an eyebrow lifted. 

“I am Tevinter,” Dorian continues, like that means something either. 

“You’re both in the Inquisition now,” I say with a shrug. “A people is a people, individuals are different.”

I may not be from Thedas, but we’re all in this mess together, ain’t we?

Dorian sighs. 

“I suppose you are right. But he could do with a few more baths a week,” Dorian says, attempting to save face. 

“Everyone here could do with a few more baths a week,” I say grimly, and then we move out. 

—

“ _ A thousand little starlights and not one of them is familiar, _ ” Is murmured beside me. 

I jump, and see Cole, looking up at the stars with me. 

The camp is quiet, save the guards on watch. 

“They are gas?” Cole asks, turning to look at me. 

“Yeah. Super hot gas, hot enough to be seen from lightyears away,” I murmur, turning from him to look up again. 

“And we spin around one?” Cole asks.

I nod. 

“I think it’s pretty similar to home, this star and my star. Same goes for this planet,” I whisper, wary. 

“They cannot hear you,” Cole reassures, placing a cold hand on my shoulder. 

I grab his hand without thinking, tsking. 

“If you're cold wear gloves,” I mutter, trying to rub heat into the hand. 

“I cannot hurt from it,” Cole says. 

Well that doesn’t matter, if he ends up more human he’s gonna need to know how to take care of himself. 

“You are warm, from the inside out, that’s why you feel like you’re going to burn up,” Cole says offhandedly, looking down at my hands over his. 

Oh. That’s… concerning. I think?

“Well it’s not like I can  _ stop _ being warm,” I say.

“You try.  _ Ser, not Bull. Never Bull. Hissrad first, Iron Bull second _ ,” Cole murmurs, and I stifle the anxiety that rises with the words. 

I tug off my gloves and hand them to Cole, feeling the cold on my warm hands to distract myself. 

“Put those on, kiddo,” I say before I can catch myself. 

“You are younger than me!” Cole says, holding the gloves nonetheless. 

“Am  _ not _ , I’m not a spirit of compassion turned human boy, now put on the gloves,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. 

Cole puts on the gloves. “It makes you feel better, to help.”

I scowl, and look back up at the galaxy before us.

“Did you know some people think the sky is just a blanket with holes poked in it?” I say, instead of acknowledging the truth. 

Cole makes a surprised noise. 

“Why?” He asks. 

“It’s fantastical,” I say. “Plus, some people also thought the stars were where people go when they die, so crazy ideas like that aren’t uncommon.”

“You liked the stars because it reminded you of how small you are.  _ A million million stars, how many have life? _ ” Cole hums. “Does it help, knowing you’re not significant?”

Damn he’s asking the real questions. 

“I mean… I guess?” I say slowly. “I just think about it and exhilaration builds up in my chest and stuff. It’s vast and we’re just a pinprick in someone else’s telescope, somewhere.”

Christ, I can’t think about it too long though, I get prone to existential crises. 

“The spymaster doesn’t know you, you don’t have to be worried,” Cole says, before I blink and he’s simply not there.

Well… that was…  _ nice.  _

—

We’ll be at Halamshiral in a day, and then I can have better places to hide. 

As is, though,

“Why are you bleeding again?” I ask, dread in my face. 

“Just some bandits,” Bull says, like a slash to the side is completely  _ normal.  _

“Shouldn’t you… take a potion?” I ask slowly, as if talking to an idiot. 

“Nah, it’ll make a badass scar.”

I level him with the most unimpressed look I can. 

“Please put a bandage on it or something, Ser,” I state, eyeing the slowly weeping wound. “That really can’t be healthy.”

How does he just keep doing this? Is this the real life equivalent of when the party has no more potions so they walk around injured? Why is he so nonchalant??

“Don’t have any,” Bull says with a  _ shrug.  _

Sweet Jesus have mercy, how is he still  _ alive _ ? I’m going to have heart palpitations. What if he bleeds out and dies?? What if he gets an infection. 

“You- stay there,” I say rubbing a hand down my face. “I know of some bandages. Can you at least pretend to put a compress on the wound?” 

And with that I’m already walking away, grabbing the bandages I saw on the wagon I rode on, and coming back with a look of death. 

“You know how to wrap these, right? Because I really don’t,” I say dryly, holding the bundle out to him. 

“Yeah I got it. You really didn’t have to,” Bull says, taking it.

“Ser, I think without your chargers on your ass, you’d die,” I say blandly. “You didn’t have to hand me bandages, says the man who’s bleeding out,” I finish sarcastically, because I’m in hell. 

He chuckles, and I look around. 

The Inquisitor is talking to Varric nearby, I can see Dorian pacing in the distance, but other than that, nobody. 

“So, you and the Vint know each other?” Bull asks. 

“I read books, and I also don’t make a habit of sneering at people I don’t know. It was inevitable,” I say, reaching into my pocket to start twirling my pencil. 

“I can see it,” Bull says. “So, where do you think they’ll shove you while we’re at the ball?”

I make a face. “Hopefully nowhere near any nobles. Sorry in advance for the ox comments you’re about to get smacked with, Ser.”

Bull shrugs. “‘Least I’m not at their beck and call. You tell the ambassador if one of them tries something, she’s a bleeding heart.”

That’s suspiciously nice. Why is he being so nice? 

Is it because of the panic attack? Damn, it’s probably because of the panic attack. 

“The Ambassador has much bigger problems. These Orleisians are going to try and eat us all alive, the Inquisitor especially,” I say with a grimace. 

I can and will pull out my pen knife if pressed, though. If I’m cornered somewhere no one will see it happen and I can change out of the clothes that may or may not be bloody before anyone knows it was me. 

Which I’m really hoping  _ won’t _ have to happen, because I’m a baby with no guts for killing people. 

“I think she’s got it, Boss tends to do the opposite of what people expect,” Bull says with a grin. “Tell me if you’ve gotta, everyone expects the ox man to go off the rails.”

Oh that’s the  _ opposite  _ of what I ever wanna do ever. 

“Er, no. No thank you, Ser. I think you’ve done much more for me than was expected of you,” I say. 

It’s true though, helping me breathe through a panic attack really wasn’t his problem, he didn’t have to help. 

“It’s no problem, ‘sides, I’ve got big hands for a reason,” He says with a definite eyebrow wiggle. 

“Is that what you tell all the girls?” I ask dryly. 

“Nah, usually they wanna skip the talking,” Bull says. 

“My, look at that, Ser, you’ve managed to bandage yourself,” I say quickly, but the sarcasm pokes through anyways. “If you excuse me, I’ll be off doing very unimportant things. Good evening, Ser The Iron Bull.”

Flirting? Terrifying. Off to hide with some books I go. 

—

Ah yes, needless opulence juxtaposed with the half starved looking servants. How cute. 

The Inquisition is put in Gaspard’s Estate with him, since we’re technically his tag alongs, and man is it bad. 

“Hey Revis?” 

Revis looks over at me, I focus on putting Lady Vivienne’s things down at the foot of her bed. 

“If anyone tries something on you because of your ears, tell me,” I say, looking over. “I’ll gut them.”

He smiles. “Ah, don’t worry about me, Jane. I’m a bit more concerned about you,” and then the tense air is gone and he’s patting my head because I’m  _ short.  _

“Oi!” I cry, swatting at his hand. “I’m serious, I’ll punch a racist.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it, if you could reach,” Revis hums indulgently. 

“If you’re trying to incite a short person rage, you’re going to be very disappointed,” I hiss. “The rest of you are unreasonably  _ tall _ .”

“Of course, of course. It’s alright, Jane, you’re the perfect size for a liver shot.”

“Hey, the two of you hurry up, the sooner we get these things put away the sooner we can hide,” Dana says from the doorway, looking at us with a frown. 

“Hide? Are there monsters, Dana?” Revis asks teasingly. 

Dana has a look of dread in her face. 

“You forget that I used to work for Orleisian nobles before the Conclave,” Dana says, her accent thickening. “The sooner we disappear, the better off we are.”

Christ. Fair enough. 

“We’re moving, Dana, thanks for the warning,” I say, lightly punching Revis’s arm and gesturing for us to get moving. 

Dana disappears, quiet as a ghost, and I share a look with Revis. 

Right. I’ve been with the Inquisition so long I forgot servants got lashed in other places for stupid shit. 

“Well, to work?”

—

I humming a tune. I think it’s one of those Tiktok songs, fuck, how did it go? Three to the one and the one to the three- no. It ended with I don’t trust cops and neither should you?

Stupid brain. 

The Ambassador has us personally serving the meals for the Inquisition, since she doesn’t want someone getting poisoned while we’re here, though she said it in much nicer terms to Gaspard. 

Which really is unfortunate, since I’m not that good of a cook and that leaves me taking the food out to the dining room. 

“Look alive, Jane,” Revis says teasingly, going to ruffle my short hair before I swat his hand away. 

“You ask so much of me,” I say dryly, as I grab a platter of roast pheasant to carry out. 

Then, once I’m at the doorway I fall into my meek servant who could do no wrong facade. It’s hard to do it to the Inner Circle, because they’re unfortunately the only thing familiar left, but I can do it in front of Gaspard no problem. 

There’s some idle chit chat between everyone, though Sera and Cole definitely aren’t hanging around here. Sera on principle, Cole because he’s probably put off by Gaspard’s vibes. Most are just filing in, honestly. 

I set down the platter in an empty spot, and make eye contact with Dorian. 

He’s got an eyebrow raised. I give him my most unimpressed look, before falling back into meek persona. 

When I return back to the kitchen, I jump at the sight of Solas helping. 

“Uh?? Is he supposed to be back here?” I ask aloud. 

“He’s pretending to be the Inquisitor’s manservant. Just deal with it,” Dana fills in for me from where she’s finishing off the stew. 

I mean. Fair enough????

“Alrighty then,” I say, immensely uncomfortable with Solas being in a subservient position. He’s an Elvhen  _ god _ for fucks sake. 

All for the persona, though, I suppose. 

I keep an eye out and grab the next finished platter, back to humming. 

“That and the stew will be the last of it,” Dana says, pointing to the thing of fancy cakes I’ve got in my hands. 

“Understood,” I hum, heading out the door. 

Revis is on my heels with the stew, and before we step into the dining room I chance sticking my tongue out at him. 

He has a stifled chuckle as I walk in the doors, my mask already in place. 

Yup. There’s Gaspard. Ew. 

I set down the platter in a clear spot in front of Varric Tethras, who looks like he’d rather be in a dingy tavern, then stand in the corner where the pitchers for refills are. Revis comes to join me, making a face when his back is turned to the table at large. 

I don’t huff a laugh, but it’s a close thing. 

Bull isn’t here, no Cole, Sera, Solas is obviously not here, but other than that it seems to be everyone. Well, wait, no, no Blackwall.

Oh god what if the Inquisitor decides not to save Blackwall?

Shut  _ up _ brain. 

Gaspard does a little speech to welcome everyone to his home, but I can see from his stance he’s definitely leaving this room as soon as he can. 

I stare out into the distance, idly wondering if my world finally ended while I was gone. 2020 was lookin pretty rough, I’m not gonna lie.

Well. No justice, no peace. At least everyone probably died fighting. Well, actually, that’s not comforting at all. 

Gaspard leaves after around twenty minutes, when it’s finally appropriate for him to retreat to his quarters, and I think everyone in the room collectively sighs in relief. 

“Well, that was a time,” Dorian says to the room at large, and Varric snorts.

“Can I get a refill?” Varric says, turning over to us.

I move before Revis can, walking over to the dwarf with a much less serious mask. 

“You looked like you were contemplating the rise and fall of mankind, Jane,” Dorian says, because he got put right next to Varric. 

“Yeah that’s about right,” I say seriously, and Varric chuckles. 

“You friends with Sparkler?” Varric asks. 

“She told me we can’t help where we’re born, it was love at first sight,” Dorian says. 

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, Altus Pavus, but I’m fairly certain I’m not your type,” I say, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh I can already tell you’re a hoot,” Varric says with a grin. 

Man, I’m talking freely with Lady Nightingale  _ right over there.  _ I’m dead. Where did I put my will?

Oh right. I didn’t have one. Damn it all. 

I walk back over next to Revis, set down the pitcher, and roll my eyes at the look he gives me. 

At least the scary Orlesian dude isn’t around anymore, I think I’d suffocate.


	3. Eat the Rich

The longer I’m here, as in a day, the more I wish to incite a workers revolution. 

Which, wouldn’t be a good idea, and likely no one would listen to a human about the plight of the elves, but man does my blood boil real hot!

That’s false cheer, by the way, I want to snap some of those masks in half. 

What’s worse? Us servants got dragged to the Ball. More eyes and ears for Leliana, apparently. 

With my short hair usually covering my ears, plus my hat, they all assume I’m an elf like they’ve never seen a fucking elf before. All they need is the servant's clothes and it’s like “Rabbit come fetch me this drink,” and I wish to cause  _ violence.  _

I don’t even look like an elf! My features aren’t nearly pointed enough! Dumb  _ fucks _ . 

I know this is just a taste of the shit elves go through, but I thought it was wrong before and I’m mostly angry for the actual elves who are getting called  _ racial slurs _ . 

Oh they may say it with their accents like it’s normal but it’s what it is. Christ I need to stab someone. 

“You’re looking rough, June.”

Ah, there’s Bull. 

“They’re calling me racial slurs, and I feel more angry for the actual elves, Ser,” I say grimly. 

Bull shrugs. 

“Shit like this doesn’t happen under the Qun,” Bull says. 

“Same lack of individual freedom, less opulence,” I state, watching the Inquisitor wander on by. 

She’s charming everyone here, at least. Here’s to hoping she can do the verbal takedown of the Dutchess. 

“She’s getting shit done, at least,” I murmur to Bull, wary of ears. 

“She usually does,” Bull says with a chuckle. “I told you, our Inquisitor defies odds for fun.”

I peer over at the snack table Bull is beside, and eye up one of the little cakes. 

“Does it count as not doing my job if I… be a servant, by the snacks table?” I ask aloud, eyes narrowed in on the cakes. 

“Nope. Have at it, someone should be having fun here,” Bull says, pulling at his collar. 

“Solas was definitely having some fun, but sure, Ser,” I state, sidling up at Bull’s side with a little cake in my hand. 

Bull grunts. “Figured he would. Weird guy.”

See, my nefarious plan is that I probably won’t get stabbed if I’m next to the big scary Qunari man. Is it working? Probably. 

I wonder if Cole is enjoying the library?

I people watch with Bull, having found a safe spot from all the conniving and weird ass masks, and let my anxiety go maybe two levels down. 

Never to zero, though.  _ Never.  _

Just like your chances of being attacked by a moose. 

Dorian comes strutting past, which is surprising considering in game no one moved, but also not at all because this is real life. 

“Enjoying yourself, Jane?” Dorian says with a small grin. 

“I’m hiding by the scary horned man for a reason, Altus Pavus. No offense, Ser,” I say, looking over at Bull. 

“Oh none taken,” Bull says from where he’s picking up another little cake. 

“And hogging the snack table, I see,” Dorian says with a lift of his eyebrow. 

“If anyone wants to come near, they will,” Bull says simply. 

“Of course,” Dorian says dryly. “Well, duty calls. I have wine to find.”

Bull tilts his head. 

“You need help?” Bull asks. 

“Oh the Inquisitor was adamant on Blackwall and Sera’s assistance, but thank you,” Dorian says, and my eyes widen. 

Ohhhh, they have a code phrase! That’s much smarter than what I would’ve done honestly. 

Dorian walks off, likely about to go kick some ass, and Bull huffs clearly uncomfortable with leaving the Inquisitor off fighting without him. 

“Aren’t you technically her bodyguard?” I murmur, arms clasped behind my back and rolling on the balls of my feet. 

“Caught that, huh? Yeah. But Boss needs to leave some people out to keep things from being suspicious. I still wanna crack some heads though,” Bull says, looking down at me. 

Everytime he looks at me I feel like I’m being scrutinized heavily. I’m probably not, but  _ still.  _

“Well. At least there’s little cakes,” I state, looking out at the throngs of nobles playing games because they have no natural stakes in their lives. 

“Yeah, there’s that, Jitters.”

I snap my head over at him, eyes narrowed. 

“You did  _ not _ ,” I state. 

“Just did, Jitters. What, don’t you call me what you like?” Bull says with a grin. 

“Don’t make me use the wanton impression in front of these nobles,  _ Ser _ ,” I say, eyes still narrowed

His grin widens. 

“I’d love to see it.”

I don’t smack my head against the window behind me through sheer force of will. 

“I'm going to use fragrant oils on your bedding, the strong, sneezing kind,” I state without inflection. 

Bull raises his hands in surrender. 

“Anything but that, Jitters.”

I sigh, deeply. Full of feeling. 

“My, I have no clue how I’ll be of use to the Inquisition! Oh, I’ll just be a servant, someone needs to mop the damn floor,” I say lowly, sarcastically. “How clueless I was to the trials I would face. Horned trials. And polished floors, mostly the polished floors.”

Bull laughs, and several nobles turn to look at us. 

Orlais is hell, but at least there’s tiny cakes. 

—

Well. The Inquisitor delivered. She verbally tore apart the Dutchess. It was just as good as the game, maybe better because I don’t have to do the verbal tearing. 

“Well. That was one way to go about it,” I say offhandedly. 

“Couldn’t have said it better myself. Want some punch?” Bull says from beside me. 

“Of course,” I state, moving out of the throng of scary nobles with Bull in front of me. 

So. Bull is safe.  _ Probably.  _ Maybe. Perhaps. 

Not totally safe until he chooses the Inquisition-

_ Fuck fuck fuck what if Lavellan chooses the alliance over the Chargers?? _

Haha. Anxiety came back. Oh god. 

I run into Bull’s back, blink quickly, and realize we’re at the punch bowl. 

“You alright?” Bull asks. 

“Perhaps,” I say, trying to shove down the thrumming need to shake in my hands. 

“You need to breathe?” Bull asks, head tilting a little. 

Er, probably. 

“Just gimme a second, I haven’t panicked in at  _ least _ three days,” I mutter, box breathing. 

“You need some fresh air? I can play battering ram,” Bull says, looking me over carefully. 

“No, no, here is fine. Sometimes my brain just. Thinks. Too much,” I say, feeling my heart beat. 

He nods, but keeps a close eye on me while I manually calm myself down instead of thinking of him bleeding out on the ground “ _ Sorry, Bas, nothing personal _ .”

Haha. Shut the fuck  _ up _ brain. You’re not everyone’s savior, quit pretending. They’ll be fine. 

“So this happens a lot?” Bull asks, probably trying to distract me. 

“ _ Yup.  _ A joy, anxiety is. You can only ignore it for so long until it comes back with angry vengeance,” I say, feeling my heartbeat slow. 

Christ I have heartburn. 

“Sounds like a pain,” Bull says. 

I shrug. “It wasn’t this bad until the sky went boom.”

“Fair.”

If I didn’t have so many feelings we wouldn’t be in this situation,  _ brain.  _

You’re talking to yourself, dumbass. 

Right. Shit. 

It takes a couple moments, but I’m good eventually, save the jitters that wanna break free from my hands. 

Shit, the nickname  _ does _ work. 

“Sorry, that’s two times you’ve seen that,” I say with a grimace, reaching over Bull and pouring myself some punch with lemons floating in it. Not slices, actual full lemons. 

“No judgement here, Jitters,” Bull says. 

“Glad to hear it,  _ Ser.  _ How long until you think we can leave?” I ask, taking a tentative sip of the punch. 

Oh. It doesn’t taste like ass. Yay me. 

“Two hours at least. But by then the weakest of the nobles will be passed out drunk,” Bull says, drinking some of his own punch. 

_ Joy.  _

A single, traitorous part of my brain wants to ask if Bull wants to dance, before I shove that one in the closet and nail it shut. Cruel to put anything in the closet, but it’s for the greater good of this body. 

I’m not apart of the Inner Circle. Do I look like I want Lady Josephine scolding me about causing scenes? I was one of her runners, I know exactly what her disappointed voice sounds like. I’m not having it. 

I spot Revis in the crowd, definitely flirting, as he does, with a noble of all damn people, and try not to have my palm meet my face.

Man, if he digs himself a hole he can climb his ass out, none of my goddamn business. 

“Yeah, that one is definitely working for the Nightingale,” Bull says with a chuckle next to me, looking at Revis literally charm the pants off a nobleman. 

Ohhhh. Suddenly, many things make sense. You can get more information out of people who fuck you, and it isn’t like he doesn’t enjoy it. 

“You know what, I’m not surprised,” I say. “Don’t give me any details, though, I don’t wanna know.”

“What, not even on when you walked in?” Bull asks, wiggling his eyebrows. 

I give him my best unimpressed look. 

“Oh  _ yes _ , Ser The Iron Bull, please tell me of how you ravaged my roommate! The jealousy. The intrigue. It’s all too much to take!” I say, bringing out the wanton voice, even pouting. 

I then drop the mask. “That was a joke. Don’t do that.”

“You’d be very good at that if you weren’t so nervous, Jitters,” Bull says with a grunt. 

I make a face. “What, like it’s hard? I used to run with minstrels, Ser, if I didn’t know how to play a part I wouldn’t have lasted very long.”

He raises his eyebrows. 

“Minstrels? You seem like you’d be a nervous wreck in front of a crowd.”

I huff. “It’s one of the few times I’m not, actually. What happens on stage is what happens on stage. Any worrying once you’re up there is just an inconvenience.” 

I’m real bad about doing that shit in real life though, at least for the Inner Circle. I  _ know _ them, it’s hard when you know someone. 

I push my dark hair out of my face and down some of my punch, suddenly wary of sobriety. I don’t get panic attacks about the state of the Inquisition when I’m drunk. Just hungover. 

Now wait just one second, were all of the servants the Ambassador brought along  _ spies?? _

I’m not a spy! 

Wait. They’d probably mix in a couple normal ones to make it look real. Ohhhhh that’s  _ sneaky.  _

Celene and Gaspard reappear with Inquisitor Lavellan, day some shit about working together, and I try not to sigh in relief. Lavellan’s  _ good _ good. 

“Well, that’s good for all the people caught up in their cat fight,” I mutter instead of anything else. 

“Yeah. And for us,” Bull says beside me. 

Well, not having the empire destabilized for Corypheus is always a good thing, but I don’t say that aloud. 

“Well. To the Inquisition and the world not ending, Ser,” I say dryly, raising my glass. 

“Cheers to that,” Bull says, clacking his glass against mine before we both down our drinks. 

And hopefully to everything not going horribly wrong. 

Lavellan disappears out the door to the back balcony, and I decide to look up at the ceiling. 

Gold twisted into pretty designs. A waste, considering so few people ever look up. 

“One day everything is gonna crash down on these people and they will be very unprepared for the world at large,” I hum, head tilted. 

“Oh?” Bull says. 

“If a people are disenfranchised long enough, they get angry. And when there’s nothing left to eat, you eat the rich,” I murmur, thinking about the bloody French Revolution. 

Well. They’ll figure it out. Probably. 

I look back down and catch Bull’s eye, anxiety spiking at the serious look he’s giving me. 

“Ah, sorry. Probably wrong place, wrong time, Ser,” I say quickly, reaching in my pocket to start twirling my pencil. 

“What better time than this?” Bull says with a shrug. “You’re more than meets the eye, aren’t you?”

I blanch. 

“I’d really hope not, being more than meets the eye usually involves a visit to the spymaster,” I say, dread in my voice. 

Bull laughs, patting my shoulder. “Nah, in a good way, Jitters.”

That laugh was more for my benefit than his, wasn’t it?

Man I’m definitely visiting the Spymaster, I’m putty for the damned Inner Circle. 

—

I’ve told Bull I was a minstrel before. So. I should probably prepare for that?

I’m writing out the lyrics for Toss a Coin to Your Witcher while I sing them under my breath, and then I’ll switch the lyrics up to apply to Lavellan, because there’s no way in hell I’m half assing this and accidentally saying she fought an army of elves, dude. 

“ _ Toss a coin to your Witcher, oh valley of plenty, oh valley of plenty, _ ” Cole murmurs, and I jump, as I always do. 

Heart palpitations. I’m having goddamn heart palpitations. 

“Sweet Jesus,” I hiss, a hand to my heart. “ _ Hello _ , Cole.”

“Hello. You are right, Lavellan would  _ not _ like to fight an army of elves,” Cole says seriously. 

I blink slowly at him. 

“Well, good to have that confirmed. Did you like the Ball?” I ask. 

“They would have all felt better if they just said what they wanted,” Cole says, half frustrated sounding. 

I nod. “Yeah, but sometimes people think it’s simpler to not say how they feel, than risk how others would react.”

Cole looks at me, blinking owlishly. 

“Like how you are scared?” Cole asks. 

I sigh. 

“Yes, please don’t say that where people can hear,” I grumble. 

“I do not come to you when other people could hear,” Cole says, laying two gloved hands on my shoulders. “You are safe.”

Man I’m such a pansy. 

“Thank you,” I say instead, forcing myself to relax a little. 

I suddenly widen my eyes. 

Wait one goddamn second I can’t call Lavellan the White Wolf,  _ Fenris _ is the goddamn wolf-

Oh fuck it all!

I take a couple moments to curse the sky and the ground and a few walnuts before popping back down on my butt, beside a startled looking Cole. 

“I’m gonna have to change it from White Wolf,” I say, instead of any other explanation. 

“He would not like a song made about him,” Cole says with a solemn nod. 

Well, alrighty then. 

“How about the white halla?” I ask, thinking back on the little poem the fandom likes to tell. 

A halla got caught in a trap not made for her, and had to be freed by a wolf. 

Sappy as fuck. It’s going in!

Oh, that’s a bit mean since it’s two real people who are gonna go through heartbreak, huh?

Solas is going to destroy the world.  _ It’s going in.  _

“He is scared, nothing is the way he thought it would be,” Cole says earnestly. 

“Yeah, so that gives him good reason to take it all back and destroy the world  _ twice _ . How considerate of him to everyone but himself,” I say blandly. “Perhaps I should follow in his footsteps, considering I will never see those I love again either.”

Cole makes a face. “No! He is enough, too many of those hurts…” 

I snort, honest to god snort, and go back down to copying the lyrics. 

“If he truly wished to help anyone but himself, he’d help, not tear this all apart because it looks wrong to him.”

If I did that, no more rich people would have pillars in front of their houses, and where would they be then? 

Well, actually, that sounds like a very nice idea. Unfortunately I’m not well equipped enough to do that so forget it for now.

—

Revis is trying to weetle my tragic backstory out, which will never ever happen, especially because he’s a  _ spy.  _

“So. Half dwarven secret love child of a noblewoman?” Revis tries.

“Soap maker.  _ Carpenter. _ ”

“Half dwarven secret love child of a noble _ man? _ ”

I sigh. Deeply. 

“Tell me whether I’m hot or cold, Jane, this is very serious business,” Revis says, lounging back in the cart like he owns it. 

“You’re colder than the Frostbacks in winter, Revis,” I state, flipping a page of Hard in Hightown. I’d read it in game, but it’s nice to get a refresher. 

“Damn,” Revis says with a put upon sigh. “No hints? None?”

“I was born to a soap maker and a carpenter. I then chose to run amok with minstrels, and  _ then _ I ended up at the conclave. Now I’m here,” I say blandly, flipping another page. None of it’s lies, my mom made soap and my dad definitely liked building shit. And I think highschool theatre probably was chaotic enough to make us count as minstrels. 

“ _ Minstrels _ ? So you can sing? Is that why you’re always humming?” Revis asks. 

“Maybe?” I say, making a face. “You see? Perfectly normal person. Nothing of significance.”

“Yes, your pearly white teeth say so!” Revis says cheerfully. 

“My mother taught me how to make a good toothpaste, Revis, I’m glad to share if you’d like the recipe,” I say dryly, looking over at him. He doesn’t need it, he buys the paste from a merchant, but still. 

“No thank you, I’m a mess at  _ making _ things,” Revis says with a wave of his hand. “But still. You are definitely full of shit.”

Now, I know logically that Revis, who I’ve known since we both dragged each other to Haven from the explosion at the Temple, would  _ not _ sell me out to the Spymaster. 

But  _ do I?? _

“You make my anxiety go through the roof, do you know that?” I ask Revis dryly. 

“Because you have something to hide!” Revis tells me cheerfully. 

“The only thing I have to hide is my-, well, actually, do I have anything to hide?” I say contemplatively, like a liar. “I read porn? But everyone does, I think.”

“My reaction to that is dependent on the quality of porn, Jane.”

I grin. “You would disapprove.”

Revis blanches. “If  _ I  _ would disapprove then I think you hide sick little thoughts in that mind of yours.”

I shrug. “Suppose we’ll never know!”

See! I can misdirect people! When I’m not having an anxiety attack. 

I mean… I feel bad because lying isn’t very nice, but even thinking about talking about how much  _ shit _ I have on the inner circle makes me want to shake like a leaf. 

—

I got a bonus~! I can buy more  _ books~! _

I’m humming toss a coin to your Witcher, because now the stupid thing is stuck in my head, when I step through Bull’s door. 

He’s not naked! What a great day. 

He’s changing. Not a great day. 

“ _ AGH! _ ” I yelp. 

He has underwear on at least. 

“If you wanted to see me undress, you could’ve asked,” Bull says, while I cover my eyes. 

Why? Why is it when I forget to knock he’s always doing something I don’t want to walk in on?

“Ser, I don’t get paid enough,” I say blandly. 

“I’m decent, Jitters, you can uncover your eyes,” Bull says dryly. 

“Bold of you to assume I believe that,” I say, but move my hands regardless. “Why is it only when I forget to knock the universe has me walk in on you, Ser?”

Bull is smirking. “What, am I that bad to look at?”

**_Quite the contrary._ **

“Oh how could I ever resist your large, manly muscles,” I say. “What a glimpse into the forbidden!”

My expression drops into unimpressed with ease, and I walk over to grab his bedding. 

“You know, you almost get me everytime with that,” Bull says. “Then I actually listen to the words.”

I resist the urge to poke my tongue out at him, because that counts as encouraging him. 

“I can go on about your manly virtues for a tip,” I say helpfully. 

“Part of me is morbidly curious, the other part knows it will be mocking,” Bull says with a chuckle. 

“Oh, never mocking, Ser, what servant mocks their employers?” I say, convincingly taken aback, but it’s ruined by my smirk. 

“Is that a trick question?” Bull asks. 

“Trick questions? Me?  _ Never. _ ”

“If that tongue got any sharper it’d cut, Jitters.”

“Good for everyone nothing’s coming in my mouth, Ser.”

OH SHIT OH SHIT BRAIN WHAT THE  _ FUCK DID WE JUST SAY.  _

STATUS REPORT!

It seems we’ve just flirted with the Iron Bull. 

**_SHIT._ **

Oh, he’s smirking! How fun. 

**_AHHHH!_ **

“Never minded sharp things myself.”

God is fake and everything doesn’t matter. 

I laugh nervously, grab the bedding, and leave the room with a wave. 

Idiot. 

**_AHHHHHH!_ **

—

If I press my hands into my face and stay cross legged in this corridor long enough, eventually everything will be fine. 

People senses. 

Don’t be Solas. 

“Are you alright?”

Fuck me. 

I lift my hands and level Solas with a dead stare. 

I’m in a hell with familiar faces, is what’s wrong. You’re going to try and destroy the world, is what’s wrong. I want a fucking Papa John’s pizza,  _ is what’s wrong.  _

“Just dandy,” I say blandly. “We really  _ must _ stop meeting like this.”

Solas lifts an eyebrow. 

“You are friends with Dorian, are you not?”

Death is imminent. Maybe he can’t kill me if he knows Dorian will notice?

“If bothering him with every magical question I have counts,” I say. 

Solas chuckles. I’m not put at ease. I know basic psychology. 

“It is interesting, I had not thought he would concern himself with a servant, no offense intended towards you,” Solas says. 

I mean, fair. 

I shrug. “He’s lonely.”

And so are you. I can see it, it pours off your bones and I’m surprised you don’t gasp with the weight of it. So alone. So afraid. So mournful. 

Doesn’t excuse the dumbassery, but I get it. Trauma can make us do stupid shit, but it doesn’t make hurting others right. 

Solas is looking at me with keen eyes. I do not like him looking at me with keen eyes. I probably just showed my quick evaluation of him on my face, didn’t I? Oh no. 

He opens his mouth, but then-

“ _ Breaking, gasping, all alone with shadows. _ ”

Oh thank  _ fuck.  _

“Oh, look at the time! I left my hairbrush running, better to attend to that!” I say, standing and patting Cole on the shoulder before I power walk away. 

You know what that was?

Hm???

_ None. Of. My. Goddamn. Business. _

—

My life is just a series of running away from scary people and scary situations, isn’t it?

The past four months have been fine!  _ Now _ fate decides to go “hehe look at the fumbling protagonist lets watch her freak the fuck out three times a day”??

I’m not saying I’m the protagonist, by the way. Admitting to something like that makes everything worse. 

The Inquisitor and her advisors are getting everything set up for the attack on Adamant, and I’m just happy there’s no reason to bring servants there. 

“It’s unfortunate to see how far the Wardens have fallen,” Dorian says with a small shake of his head. 

I shrug. “When you’re scared of dying, you do what you think will help you survive,” I murmur, flipping a page in my book on the fifth blight. “Even if it’s stupid as fuck.”

Dorian gives me an assessing look. 

“True enough. Though I’m glad we agree on the stupidity of their plot. I’m unsure if I’m more baffled that they believed a suspicious Tevinter mage, or that he convinced them to do blood magic.”

“If you show up at the right time, you can do whatever you want, Magister Alexius proved that at Redcliffe,” I say. “If in the chaos of suddenly all of them hearing the calling, someone came with a convincing fix to their problem? I can see how they fell for it.”

Still stupid as fuck, though. I wonder if the Inquisitor will bring them in or banish them?

Both could end good or bad. The Grey Wardens are susceptible to Corypheus’s magic, but they’d still be useful for the battle in the Arbor Wilds. 

Who knows, man. It’s all up to her. 

“You are very thoughtful, behind your anxieties,” Dorian hums. “How you kept all those words hidden for so long I haven’t a clue. I could never.”

I level him with my patented unimpressed look. 

“You’re too naturally bright. As long as no one looks close at me they can’t notice, but unfortunately for me you Inner Circle don’t seem to have that problem.”

They really don’t. I swear I was doing just fine before Skyhold! I was just another random face in our ragtag band of an Inquisition. 

“We really don’t bite, Jane, I’m sure the Inquisitor would love your biting wit,” Dorian says with a smirk. 

I immediately blanch and feel the blood leave my face. 

“No.  _ Nope.  _ Don’t even- christ, the thought of the Inquisitor knowing me-!” I say, forcing myself to take level breaths. 

Dorian’s face morphs into concern quickly. 

“I’m joking, my dear, don’t faint, we haven’t a decent fainting couch in this entire castle,” Dorian says quickly, patting my shoulder. 

**_Scary_ ** . 

Pansy. 

**_SCARY._ **

“I’m fine!” I say, box breathing. “This just,  _ happens _ , sometimes, just ask Ser The Iron Bull.”

“Kaffas, I hadn’t realized I could poke you into panic so easily, breathe, Jane,” Dorian says, looking a little panicked himself. 

“I’ll be fine. In a few minutes.  _ Probably _ .”

I spend a few moments just shutting my stupid brain up while Dorian frets, before my heartbeat is finally normal enough to be fine. 

“See? Haha. Fine,” I say, running a hand down my face. 

“You are a mess. The Qunari’s nickname fits,” Dorian says with a shake of his head. “Why do we all distress you so?”

I know how everything could go wrong. Every second of the day. 

Plus, tall. All of you are  _ tall.  _

“You all stab things for a living,” I say, making a face. “I don’t trust anyone I can’t take in a fight, you all would beat me.”

Dorian lets out a surprised laugh. 

“You are never going to trust anyone with that way of thinking, look at you.”

I scowl. “Well it’s not my fault the scariest people in this castle want to talk to me.”

Dorian’s eyebrows raise. “So you admit that I am scary?”

“ _ All _ mages are inherently scary, usually in a good way. Stop thinking it’s about you being from Tevinter, it’s not,” I state, reaching over and punching his uncovered shoulder. 

“ _ Ow _ , watch it, I’m too pretty for bruises!” Dorian says. 

“Whatever you say, Altus Pavus. If you excuse me, I’m going to go do something that hopefully doesn’t cause a panic attack. A harder task that you’d think.”

—

I’m humming the damn Toss a Coin to Your Witcher  _ again.  _

It’s just. It gets lodged in your fucking head! 

I regret everything. 

I knock this time, on Bull’s door. 

“It’s open!”

Why is he always in there when I come in? Is it on purpose?

Man it’s none of my business, maybe his chill out on his room time just corresponds with my get Bull’s bedding time. 

I open the door, and he has clothes on! Not naked!

He’s sharpening a big sword.  _ Another _ new two-hander from the Inquisitor?

“Do you ever wonder where all those mauls come from?” I ask in greeting. 

“People who can’t hold them anymore, usually,” Bull says dryly, looking up from where he’s sharpening. 

Well, glad to see the Inquisitor recycles. 

Maybe right now is just his sharpen his weapons time and it’s not polite to do it in a crowded tavern. 

Still humming, because so far nothing seems to have gone wrong, I start grabbing Bull’s bedding. 

“So, have I been reading you wrong, or do you want to ride the Bull?”

I jump, I’m honest about that. I genuinely jump. 

“ _ Uhhhh??? _ ” I say, intelligently. 

I mean,  _ do _ I wanna ride the Bull???

Well. There’s probably no better first. 

My face is red. Oh god. Uh. 

“If not I’ll stop,” Bull says nonchalantly. 

Of course, mouth decides it’s time for it to shine and leave the rest of this body scrambling, again. 

“I am not,  _ adverse,  _ to that?” I say in a high voice. 

Oh. Thanks a  **_fucking lot mouth._ **

You’re talking to yourself. You make your lips move, dumbass. 

It’s the principle of the thing. 

“But do you really know what that means?” Bull asks, tilting his head at me. 

“I have a fairly good idea, Ser,” I say, unsure of where to put my hands. 

_ Bro _ . 

Am I about to Ride the Bull ™?

He stands, slowly, to televise his movements, ands walks to stand in front of me.

“You sure?” He asks, looking down at me. 

I laugh nervously. 

“Yes?”

I’m getting flashbacks to the Inquisitor getting pinned up by her hands against a wall. 

He lifts an eyebrow. “Are you asking, or telling? I’ll back off the second you say no.”

Oh, right, because I’m a well known anxious fuck and he doesn’t want me to think he’s making me do anything. 

“Feint on your blind side, go low, right?” I ask, feeling my heart in my throat. 

He nods. 

Well then, what else is there to say?

“Yes.”

Y’know, I’m lucky the Commander doesn’t ever notice me when I clean up his room, because something tells me I’m gonna be awhile. 


	4. fate is still not giving Jane a break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three of these *** if you wanna skip any nsfw!

I blink, slowly. 

“You awake?” Is rumbled right next to my ear. 

“Well. That’s one way to lose your virginity,” I say, noting that I’m half laying on The Iron Bull under a blanket. 

Bull laughs. 

You know, I don’t think I’ve been this calm in months. 

“No sarcasm this time, Jitters?” Bull asks. 

I’m pulling a blank. 

“Uh, no?” I’m actually quite blissed out, like when you wake up in the morning and the bed and blankets are just comfy enough that you can lay there, satisfied. 

Well, ignoring the soreness, but at least I’m not sticky, I think Bull did aftercare. 

Aw, shit. I had work to do. 

“So. Thoughts?” Bull asks, sounding amused. 

My face heats up. 

“Specific ones?” I ask. 

“Whatever comes to mind.”

“That thing you did with- ah, your mouth.”

“Figured, from the way you keened.”

**_Embarrassed_ ** . Very embarrassed. 

Well. I rode the Bull. Five stars?

Still not anxious and I’ve been awake for a minute. Definitely five stars out of five. Would come again. 

Get it? Come again? Because-

Sigh. 

—

I’m pacing my room when Revis comes walking in. 

“Oh, are we thinking deeper than usual? Have you been called back to your house? Oh, is it an arranged marriage?” Revis asks, at the doorway. 

“No and no, just,  _ things _ ,” I say anxiously, arms crossed and my fingers tapping my chin. 

“Is it because of the Iron Bull?” Revis says, getting it in one with an amused look on his face. “A good fuck, that man.”

“ _ No.  _ Yes. Maybe,” I say, reaching up and running a hand through my short hair, pulling a few strands out of my face. 

“They don’t think about sex too deeply under the Qun, Jane, you’re fine,” Revis says simply. 

Yes, but is it ethical to have intercourse with a man who could become a traitor later on?? Furthermore, is it ethical to let him lose what he holds closest???

Aw, I’m not cut out for this shit. 

“Yes, I understand that part, I’m just pondering the meaning of my life at the moment, spurred on by his good fuck,” I say dryly instead of anything else. 

“Oh,  _ that _ good huh?” Revis asks with a tilt of his head. 

Apparently so. 

“Well, at least you haven’t fallen for him. I hear one or two of our number were not so lucky,” Revis says with a sad shake of his head. “He was very gentle letting them down, all things considered.”

Me??  _ Fall for The Iron Fucking Bull _ ???

I don’t think it could get worse. He could become Hissrad! For good! And I’d have to pick up the pieces in a shattered world. 

“He stabs things for a living? What smart person falls for someone who could die everytime they leave?” I ask, making a face. 

Someone who cares regardless, who would love them fully even if they could leave. 

_ Oh shut it brain _ . 

Revis shrugs. “Someone has to love soldiers. Now calm down before you make a trench in the floor.”

Wait. How did he know I did the dirty with Bull?

Actually, nevermind, he’s a spy, I won’t question it. 

“Existence is marred by inevitability,” I declare, like a brat. 

Revis goes to his bed, picks up his pillow, and wacks me. 

If we spend the next few minutes wrestling and saying teasing insults, that’s our business. 

—

“It baffles me to this day anyone thought the circles would last so long,” I say with a grimace. 

“Oh, will this be one of your ‘ _ hot takes _ ’? Please explain further, I’m on the edge of my seat,” Dorian says, a delighted expression on his face. 

“The Chantry puts the mages in cages, teaches them to be terrified of themselves and the fade, and then expects them to not be walking trainwrecks,” I say, shutting the textbook in my hand with a  _ clap _ and putting it to the side with a disgusted noise. “No fucking wonder a Chantry got blown up.”

“I do so love it when you let loose your controversial opinions,” Dorian comments. 

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, because I’m not a mage, but perhaps letting Templars scare the everloving shit out of the mages didn’t help?” I ask, peeved as hell. “Christ, or  _ harrowings.  _ How traumatic is it to be scared every second that you might get snatched and forced to fight a demon?”

All of it is a mess. All of it. Fucking hell. 

“Yes, those are a gross practice,” Dorian says with a grimace. “Not done, in Tevinter.”

“You have slavery, though, Altus, so there’s a give and take,” I say blandly. “Back on topic, though. Circles were a powder keg waiting to get lit, and I have no clue how they lasted this long.”

“Am I hearing correctly?”

_ Oh no _ . 

“If it was an admission that the southern circles were waiting to go off, then yes, Madame De Fer,” Dorian says in greeting. 

I don’t hyperventilate! It’s only because my body is gearing up for a verbal spar to end all verbal spars. 

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but you do not seem to be a mage,” Vivienne says, looking upon me with a slight tilt of her head. 

“I don’t need to be Antivan to have an opinion on their politics,” I say dryly. 

“Oh? How quaint. To be frank, I do not know of any of this terror you speak of, no matter what these free mages will state,” Vivienne says, a slight distaste curling her words at free mages. 

“A caged bird thinks freedom is a crime,” I state. “And only with the old order do you maintain your position you’ve earned, Grand Enchanter de Fer.”

I’m so bad at being normal. 

“So, I think you may have an inherent bias coloring your opinion,” I finish, trying not to notice the very entertained look on Dorian’s face. 

“Is that so?” Vivienne asks, ice cold. 

Aw, I’m gonna die aren’t I?

“Altus, if I die today, use my money to buy this library some quality literature,” I say weakly, looking over at said man. 

“Oh, only the best porn for the Inquisition’s library, Jane. Should we write you a plaque? Died doing what she loved? Speaking to the scariest people in the castle?”

See? Dorian gets it. Dorian gets me. 

“I want you to imply there’s hidden treasure and not hide any at the pyre burning speech,” I say seriously. 

“Done!” Dorian says cheerfully. 

“If I may?” Vivienne says. Oh no. “What job do you hold with our Inquisition? I’m sure it’s a thoughtful one if it allows such time for pondering.”

Before I have a panic attack, Dorian steps in, smiling easily. 

“Now Madame, don’t be so sore, Jane is known for cutting sarcasm,” Dorian says, grinning. 

Am I? My days are a haze of anxiety and books, honestly. I don’t know what comes out of my mouth on a good day.

Well, that’s a lie, I know how I am. Pretending innocence and asking for forgiveness later seems like a better option. 

“Look at the time! I forgot to water my scarf, got to go, Altus, Madame,” I say, grabbing the book that had infuriated me earlier and making my grand escape. My life is a series of grand escapes, frankly. 

—

The Inquisitor and her army are leaving for Adamant. 

“I will try to keep them from hurting like you remember,” Cole murmurs, gloved ( _ with my gloves _ ) hands on my shoulders. 

I still feel anxious talking about it aloud, but I trust Cole. He wouldn’t say anything near other people. 

“I know, Cole. Just take care of yourself too, alright?” I ask, looking at his lanky frame and just a little too sunken cheeks. He looks like a gust of wind could knock him over, I should buy him a warm coat. 

“Even now you worry for me,” Cole says, head tilted. “I am not hurting? Not like you think?”

“Yes, but if you choose to grow more human than you’re going to need a warm coat,” I grumble, reaching over and fiddling with his mismatch shirt. “Don’t die.”

“ _ Broken, bloodied on the floor, every second the knowing eats inside, coward, coward, coward, _ ” Cole murmurs. “You are not bad for being afraid. It’s okay to be afraid. I will try to come back.”

Oh I hope so. Desperately. 

“Go on, kiddo. I’ll be here…  _ pacing. _ ”

And then Cole is gone, and I blink a few times.

Well, at least I didn’t jump this time?

I come out of the corridor I’d met with Cole in and spot Dorian heading out through the hall.

“Altus!” I say, watching his head snap to me quickly. 

“You know you can call me Dorian, yes? I faced an irate Madame de Fer for you, Jane,” Dorian says dryly. 

I keep walking and pause in front of him, looking him over with pursed lips. I know there are eyes on us, but I can’t quite bring myself to care. 

“You come back alive and whole, Dorian Pavus,” I say, grimacing, hands shaking a bit with nerves. “Tell Ser The Iron Bull that too, my job relies on his continued survival.”

Dorian goes for bravado instead of facing the fact that someone cares for him. 

“Oh come now, Jane, aren’t I the one of the scariest in this castle?” Dorian asks. 

“Yes, but my anxiety towards you has shifted to worrying for your wellbeing, Dorian. So try not to die. The only other person who would give me intelligent debate is  _ Solas _ , and he is scarier than you,” I state, reaching over and patting his uncovered shoulder. 

Dorian is allergic to feelings, so he huffs. 

“Fine fine. I will return, Jane, someone needs to educate you southerners.”

And with that, the keep becomes much quieter. 

—

The Inner Circle are gone for almost three weeks, between travel time, storming Adamant, and more travel time. 

Everything feels duller without them, because everyone knows the Inquisitor is the heart of the Inquisition, and her companions only make that heart bigger. It’s like a bated breath from the center of a storm, untouched but watching the destruction regardless. 

I’m getting poetic with the lack of Dorian time, can you tell?

Ugh, Dorian time. Of course I’d get attached to him most, he’s the only source of intelligent conversation I have besides Revis, and Revis and I bicker most of the time. 

Lighthearted bickering, built on begrudging love, but still bickering. 

The times we’ve devolved into wrestling and pillow throwing goes unsaid. 

Ambassador Josephine remains, though, and with the lack of cleaning up duties I’m popped back into delivering her messages from her to the rookery. 

“Oh, Jane, could you please-?”

I’m already moving, used to this song and dance with the Ambassador. 

“I’ve got it, Lady Montilyet,” I say, picking up her note she’s quickly written. 

“Ah, you are very attentive, Jane, thank you!” Josephine says, giving me a relieved, tired smile before I head off. 

But yeah, things mostly smooth into normalcy before everything gets hectic again. 

The Inner Circle returns.

Bull is being wacked by a stick. 

I pause, definitely looking concerned as Lady Cassandra hits Bull in the stomach. 

“Was it that bad?” I ask him, grimacing. 

“Nightmare demon,” Bull says darkly. 

Yeah, that’s fair. 

He says the thing about women not being allowed to fight under the Qun to Cassandra, and gets knocked on his ass. Like in the game. Oh god, where’s the Inquisitor?

“Need some help there?” I ask Bull, looking down at him. 

“Not unless you’re going to hit me with that stick, Jitters,” Bull says, getting up to his feet. 

Oh, I don’t wanna hurt Bull.

But he looks  _ rough.  _ I’m the last person to get to decide how someone should cope. 

“Not sure if I can smack you as hard as a Seeker, but I can try?” I ask, dryly, picking you the stick and getting into batting position. 

I did softball! Once. In seventh grade. 

Eh, it’ll be fine. 

I smack Bull in the stomach as hard as I can, looking up at his face for any indication that I should stop. Very careful. 

“I’ll tell you katoh if I want to stop, Jitters, now  _ hit me _ .”

Oh, we never got into watchword talk before. Huh. Well, I trust him to stop me. 

“Watchwords. This is the kinkiest thing I’ve ever done,” I say in the same dry tone, before hitting him again. 

“ _ Demons _ .”

Smack. 

“ _ Fade crap _ .”

I really hope I’m not stealing key bonding from the Inquisitor here. 

Smack. 

“Guess who’s stuck in the fade!”

Smack. 

I’ve still got my eyes on Bull’s face, but he seems to be fine? Honestly he’s barely reacting besides a little  _ oof.  _

“And guess who killed you? Huh? Huh? The Iron Fucking Bull!” Bull shouts. 

I blink slowly at him. 

“That’s one way to work through trauma. Just don’t expect that in bed,” I offer, unsure of what I’m supposed to do with this stick now. 

Bull looks a little better, at least, and laughs. 

“Yeah. Thanks, Jitters. I needed that,” Bull says.

I shrug. Oh god what if the Inquisitor just shows up now? That was not a scene I was supposed to butt into. 

“It’s what you needed. Not sure my hitting you compares to a nightmare demon, though,” I say, lightly dropping the stick. 

“Nah, but you tried!” Bull says with a small grin. 

I give him an unimpressed look, but don’t comment. 

“You sure you’re alright?” I ask, televising my movement before I pat his arm. This is nerve wracking. 

“Yeah, Jitters,” Bull says, smiling. 

That’s a lie, I can see it in his eye. 

“Uh Huh.”

—

*

*

*

I let out a surprised hiss, nails trailing down Bull’s tough shoulders. 

I’m up against a goddamn stone  _ wall _ , this is a core workout. 

“What’s the watchword?” Bull says against my hair. 

“Katoh, but don’t you dare stop,” I say quickly, looking up at him. 

Bull chuckles, and I figure this is another way to work through trauma too. 

He feels like he’s got everything under control, and I trust him enough that I feel perfectly safe and unafraid. A wonderful deal, really. 

I don’t know what I’m doing at all, frankly, but Bull’s got it, so I just do whatever feels right. 

As of current, that’s grinding on his torso while he bites and nibbles from my jaw to my collarbone. 

His hands both hold me up by my butt, and he’s so freaking  _ big _ my legs are a little annoyed at me for wrapping around him. 

At a bite that stings and will definitely leave a mark, I curse. 

“How’s it feel being pinned by the big bad Qunari?” Bull asks lowly. 

“Safer than I’ve felt in weeks,” I grumble. “Definitely not good on the back, though.”

Bull snorts, and with a real unbecoming squeak I’m carried over to his bed, and dropped onto it. 

The bed could fit at least four of me, but as I lay there sprawled out and trying to slowly my fast beating heart he looks down at me. 

“You need less clothes on,” He says. 

I huff a laugh, because how else does somebody respond to that. 

“Right back at you,  _ Ser _ ,” I say, a teasing edge to my words. 

I shrug my black sweater and bra off, toss them somewhere I’ll probably see them when this is over, before I’m pinned back down by my wrists. 

“Hands stay up,” Bull orders. 

“What, no grabbing the horns?” I snark, before I’m being rubbed through my pants and decide good things come to those who wait. 

“Right. Hands stay up,” I agree with a little grin, and Bull releases my wrists. 

Bull looks down at me for a moment, looking like he’s thinking of what to do next, before there’s a hand my boob and he’s sucking my nipple. 

I whimper, grasping the blanket above my head instead of Bull because I’m not that much of a brat. 

Callous against my skin on one side while Bull sucks hickeys around my other boob. 

The noises I’m making, especially when he puts his knee between my thighs, are definitely undignified. Which makes me giggle like an idiot. 

“Having fun, Jitters?” Bull asks, amusement coloring his voice. 

“I have no clue how people stay serious during this,” I say, stifling more laughs. 

I think this is  _ definitely  _ the best I’ve felt in weeks. 

Bull sighs, but it’s not a bad sigh if the smile is to be believed. 

“That’s not the usual response I get, but I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Bull says. 

I grin, because I can’t help it, and grind against his knee. 

“Oh, plenty enjoying, Ser.”

*

*

*

—

“Y’know, don’t think I’ve heard you laugh before that,” Bull says once we’re finished and I’m lethargically pulling on my clothes. “Besides the nervous laughing.”

Huh. I don’t think he has. 

“I trust you not to hurt me,” I say simply. “Guess my anxiety shuts up long enough for me to get a laugh in.”

Oh, gross,  _ feelings.  _

It’s a fact though. Bull wouldn’t hurt me while we’re getting down and dirty. Now at all other times is a whole other question. 

Shit, now I’m worrying about stupid shit again. 

“Glad to hear it,” Bull says. 

I wonder, idly, if this is gonna mess things up for Dorian and Bull. 

Oh, actually, probably. Oh god, does this make me a homewrecker?

Does it count as homewrecking if the relationship didn’t have time to start?

They’ll probably be fine. Bull will tell me he’s going steady with an arrangement with Dorian, shut up brain. 

“What’s going through that head of yours, Jitters?” Bull asks behind me, causal as all hell. 

I hum, rubbing my tired eyes. 

“Nothing at all, just my head already trying to worry about shit,” I grumble, before looking at him uncertainly. 

“Hey, so, you’re Ben Hassrath, right?” I ask, carefully. 

Bull stills, tilting his head. 

“Yeah, why?” 

“You get sent to Saheron?” I ask, still very careful of saying something that gets me stabbed. 

“Yes?” 

“How do you deal with remembering that shitshow?” 

Logically, I understand trauma doesn’t care whether you watched babies get killed or were told by your parents you were ugly, it always bites you. 

The whole losing everything I cared about in one fell swoop thing… probably wasn’t healthy. 

I feel like a kid, sitting next to Bull on this bed, looking up at him, but I guess that’s a given when I’m so short and he’s so tall. 

Bull is grimacing, looking at me and probably trying to figure out what to say here. 

“Shit, nevermind, sorry, Ser. Can’t just poke people’s inside hurty bits with a stick,” I say quickly, looking away and feeling stupid. 

“No, it’s fine, just wasn’t expecting that,” Bull says. 

“I- uh, shit. Dunno how I deal with it. Distractions usually, helps that the Boss throws me at big things to kill,” Bull explains. 

I grimace. 

“Yeah, not really an option for me. I’m a bit squishy for stabbing,” I grumble. 

A lot of this anxiety is probably because I’m scared of losing the only familiar shit I have left. 

Oh  _ no.  _ **_Feelings_ ** . 

“Well. That was fun. Thanks for the time, Bull,” I say, standing up on sore legs. 

“You too, Jitters. Come around for a drink some time,” Bull says. 

“‘Course, Ser.”

—

I’m not a creature of violence, I’m really really not. 

A noble just backhanded another servant, Rosie, older lady, smiles real wide, freckles on her face, has three kids. 

_ Sometimes the lord tests us though.  _

How are we doing this-? Oh. We’re just gonna walk right up, alrighty then. 

“I’m unsure of how you assume you may treat servants, but in the Inquisition, we do not hit people when we’re upset,” I hiss, hands trembling and oh that’s definitely a sneer pulling around my lips. 

He’s taller than me, but that’s to be expected. And so is Rosie. So I’m sure I look a little absurd standing between them, but that’s not the  _ fucking point.  _

He can smack me around, fucking fine, whatever, but Rosie is a good woman who makes great puns. I  _ refuse.  _

“ _ Jane _ ,” Rosie says, putting a hand on my shoulder, but I’m not fucking moving. 

“Well I never, I will be speaking to the Lady Ambassador about this!” The Orleisian prick says, looking like he’s about to hit me next if I don’t shut up.

“Suck my  _ dick _ ,” I reply, eloquently, and pretend my heart isn’t beating faster than it should and that I’m not about to pass out. “People like you are deplorable, do you think your entitlement makes you above consequence?”

I get backhanded,  _ ow ow ow _ , definitely crying now. 

“Rosie, go get someone,” I say, waving her off and straightening up, clenching my shaking hands into fists. 

“You have no words to fight me, so you resort to violence,” I say, sniffling. 

Oh this is  _ not _ how we be normal, Jane. We’re really fucked now. 

It’s a matter of doing what’s right at this point, man. 

Rosie’s not behind me anymore. This all started because she dropped some  _ tea _ , stupid fucking nobles. It didn’t even fall on him! 

“I should have your rabbit tongue cut out!” The stupid cunt shouts, and that really should make me rear back but I  _ can’t. Because now I’m even fucking more pissed _ . 

“I’m not an elf, you racist  _ fuck _ !” I state. “If you had eyes behind that shitty mask you could tell, but I’m afraid your two braincells don't hit each other often enough for a coherent thought!”

My lip hurts. Half my face hurts, honestly. 

I’m tired of living in the stupid medieval ages, everyone is a classist, racist dick here and I want to go  _ home.  _

Suddenly there’s a hand on my neck, and not in the nice kinky way, in the “this noble is trying to choke me” way. 

Man, this never would’ve happened if I just didn’t play Dragon Age.

Do I have legal cause to kick him in the groin now?

I send a booted foot into his crotch, before an arrow hits him in the throat. 

Oh thank god. 

I drop to my knees and try to take coughing breaths, wiping at my wet face. 

Holy shit.  _ Holy shit.  _

“Jane? Jane focus on my voice.” That’s Revis. Did he arrow that guy in the throat?

“Oh Inky is going to  _ hear about this _ ,” Is hissed nearby, and I’m fairly certain that’s Sera. 

Fuck fuck fuck, I almost  _ died _ because I couldn’t just deescelate the situation like a normal person. Oh, that noble is dead now, the Ambassador is gonna kill me. 

“Shit, she’s having a panic attack,” Revis hisses, and two steady hands are on my trembling shoulders. “I’m right here, you’re fine. Everything is going to be fine.”

If I kept my fucking nose down and just acted  _ normal _ everything would be  _ fine _ . But it’s not.

He deserved it, I don’t feel bad. 

Shit,  _ shit _ yes I do, he was a person! 

He was going to kill me. 

**_Fuck._ **

“Breathe with me, Jane, just breathe, I’m right here,” Revis says soothingly, gently rubbing my shoulders while I try to not be a fucking mess for five seconds. 

Worst MGIT ever. In the history of ever. Even the evil ones were better than me at this. 

I take deep breaths with Revis, or at least I try, because the alternative is passing out and I will  _ not _ be passing out. 

“Someone,  _ kick _ , that corpse, for me,” I say through breaths, holding Revis’s arms too tightly to not be painful. 

“If you calm down enough you can kick it yourself, Jane, just focus on breathing right now,” Revis says. 

Yeah, probably for the best right now. 

_ My face hurts _ . 

—

Sera tells the Inquisitor why she shot a noble, the Inquisitor tells the Ambassador he deserved it, and it’s quietly swept under the rug along with a well worded warning to the nobles that you do  _ not  _ punish the Inquisition’s servants. 

I settle in a chair in front of Bull with a thump. 

“So, tried the hitting thing, don’t think I feel any better,” I say dryly, well aware that I’ve got a split lip and a yellow bruise on my throat. 

If I were vain I’d care, as is I’m just happy I didn’t have to talk to the Inquisitor or anyone else personally. 

“Shit, Jitters, heard there was a mess with a noble from Sera, didn’t realize it was you,” Bull says looking a little concerned. 

“He looks worse than me,” I say, trying to pretend everything is fine. “If I learned to shut my mouth it probably would’ve been fine.”

I still would’ve done it. No one gets to smack Rosie.

“Nah, the nobles need to learn not to touch the Inquisition’s people, you were fine,” Bull says. “You need a drink? You look like it.”

“Please,” I say with a sigh, rubbing my tired eyes. 

I just actively sought out Bull for something other than sex, I’m definitely in deep now. 

Well, a normal chat is probably fine, but fate doesn’t pull punches. This is the beginning of the end. 

I look down at my hands. 

_ Still no fucking callous.  _ I’m actually pathetic. 

A mug is shoved in front of my face, and I take it instead of dwelling. 

“Hey, I’ve got a healer in my chargers if you need a salve for that,” Bull says, gesturing to my throat. 

Oh god. The chargers. If I meet them I have to save them, don't I?

Fuck me, the Inquisitor has made all the right decisions so far without me,  _ it’ll be fine.  _

I drink some of the strong stuff in my hands, cough, and make a face. 

“You don’t have to, Ser,” I say, wishing I had something to fiddle with. 

“It’s fine, Jitters. Krem!” Bull shouts. 

Krem, who’d been hanging out at his seat, gets up with a sigh.

“Yeah, Chief?” He asks. 

“Where’s Stitches?” Bull asks. 

“Lemme check my magic map,” Krem says dryly. “Probably at the healing tents, Chief.”

Krem looks over at me and whistles low. 

“Yeah, that looks like it smarts. I’ll go get some salve.”

Well? Alrighty then??

Krem’s already off though, tankard still in hand as he heads out of the tavern. 

Krem? Decidedly not scary. He is on the not scary list, and I appreciate that. 

“So, you heading out anytime soon?” I ask, looking back at Bull. 

“Nah, Inquisitor feels bad for the Nightmare crap, put me on month leave from getting dragged around after her,” Bull says before taking a drink. 

Oh, that’s actually really nice. See? Nothing to worry about. You didn’t even get a Dark!Inquisitor.

I don’t feel better. 

I take a drink and let the liquid pain travel down my throat. Well, not liquid pain, that’s dramatic. But it ain’t the best tasting stuff I’ve ever had. 

Luckily for me, the bad tasting shit usually has higher alcohol content!

Krem reappears quickly enough, a small tin of what’s probably salve in his hand. 

“Mind me putting it on or do you got it?” Krem asks. 

“I got it,” I say, setting my tankard down beside me and taking the tin. 

I then proceed to try and open it. With failure. 

“You need some help there?” Krem asks.

Stuck in a different reality, still need people with stronger hands to open things for me. 

I sigh, deeply. 

“Please?”

Krem takes it and it’s off with a simple  _ clack _ .

I stare dully at it. 

“My continued survival is a miracle,” I say, snark looping around my words with ease, before I take the open tin and start applying the stuff to my neck. 

“Chief, she looks like she weighs less than my shield,” Krem tells Bull. 

“Eh, honestly? She does.”

I glare at Bull. 

“You didn't complain two days ago,  _ Ser _ ,” I state. “I’m perfectly proportional.”

“Of course. And you weigh less than a shield.”

If I had something nearby to throw at him, I would. 

“Distressing the injured woman, for shame,” I say, already feeling the ache on my neck go away. I make direct eye contact with Bull when I put a little of the stuff on my lip. 

“Oh I like her, can we keep her Chief?” Krem asks, grinning. 

Wait, what. 

I blink, surprised. 

“Have her snark the enemies to death, Krem?” Bull asks. 

Me?? In the Chargers???

I’d faint. Too much…  _ stabbing.  _ And nobles. I’m done with nobles for a while. 

“Course. She’ll fit right in,” Krem says. “Name’s Kremisius, by the way.” Krem holds out a hand to me. 

I take it, shaking it. 

“Jane, or Jitters. Since he started calling me it it’s started to catch on,” I say. 

“Ah, the nicknames. He loves those.”

If Krem dies-

Shut the  **_fuck_ ** _ up brain.  _ Damn. Dramatic bitch. 

Everything is going  _ fine.  _ Even if we almost died by pissed off noble. 

I knock on the wood of my chair, even if it doesn’t ever seem to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Comments? Questions? A riveting description of a plant you found today? I dunno how good this chapter was, but I’m sure you liked something??
> 
> I have a Discord for dragon age. Join at your own peril.  
> https://discord.gg/wWMvkDn


	5. a bit heavier than usual huh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed every comment about plants or involving plants. You are the OGs.

In hindsight, I really shouldn’t have gone into the forbidden magic library room. 

It’s covered in cobwebs, and even in game I was fairly certain it was Solas’s, but.

_ Books.  _

So many fucking books. 

See, I can’t actually do any magic, trust me, I tried, and I don’t really understand how the fade works on a practical level outside of theory, but. 

I love learning, and I especially love learning about magic. It’s like an itch you can’t quite get by yourself, but you’ll keep trying anyways because the alternative is trying to direct someone else to get it. 

By that I mean a frustrating pain in the ass. A  _ fun _ frustrating pain in the ass. 

I grab a book with a half faded title, ‘The Theories and Directions of Agnus Virtafel’ and open to a random page. 

I skim the words, brain working fast to see if any of it is worth it, and I make a surprised little noise in the back of my throat. 

Shapeshifting. That’s gotta be interesting, and the author isn’t a dull fuck, which helps. 

“So we meet again.”

“ _ AGH _ !” I jump, I admit that, and whirl around, eyes wide. 

Wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

Oh, that’s actually quite fitting. 

“ _ Fucking hell _ , a bell would be appreciated, Ser,” I say, looking up with wide eyes at Solas. 

Now let’s play a game called how soon can I cut this short and run away, because I’m a little more cornered this time. 

I dart my eyes over to the closed door, and back at Solas, quickly. I’m not dumb enough to think he missed that. 

“I will take it under advisement,” Solas says, a placid smile on his face I don’t believe for a second. 

Haha. This is terrifying!

“You seem to find every space most ignore,” Solas observes, hands coming to clasp behind his back. 

“Right back at you,” I say, stopping myself from sprinting away because if I get anymore suspicious he’ll confront me in the  _ open _ . 

“I mean you no harm,” Solas says, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Sometimes people lie,” I say with a nervous smile. “Forgive me if I’m a bit more jumpy than usual, I was almost choked out by a noble recently.”

Take the fucking bait. 

Solas’s eyebrows rise. 

“Ah, I had heard of that incident, I apologize.” And with that he takes a step back, now a foot and a half away from me. 

Not far enough, but I’ll take it. 

“What are you reading?” Solas asks, instead of asking why I’m always haunting places he is, or what I have to hide, or what I could  _ know.  _

God I know too much for such a bite sized body. 

“Shapeshifting,” I say simply, stopping myself from fiddling with my sweater sleeve. “From what I can tell there’s a lot of meditation.”

If I’m starting to lean towards the door, that’s my business. 

“You are precocious for a servant, not many seem to be reading as often as I see you do,” Solas says, probably meaning it like a compliment. 

Wait a second, precocious is a term for children. Is he calling me a  _ baby?? _

I’m twenty two! Which, actually, doesn’t help my point. 

“Not many are lucky enough to have the time to build such a hobby,” I state.

Solas nods. “True. One could wonder where you had the time, though?”

I shrug, and my shaking fingers are clasped tightly on the book in my hands. 

“Luck, a long enough childhood, the like,” I say. “Why are you curious?”

“You are a curious thing, no offense intended,” Solas says. 

“People often use no offense when they know what they say is offensive,” I say, sidestepping around him because I’ve found my opening. “Have a good day.”

I don’t know if I mean it. Probably not. 

A wolf in sheep’s clothing. It’s so obvious now, when I look at him. The rough, worn clothes baggy enough to give the illusion of a much different life. The placid smiles, demure, reserved gestures. A lie. A well crafted one. 

“It is not simply my being a man that makes you wary, is it?” Is asked once I place my hand on the door. I still. 

Yes. Yes yes yes yes. A thousand of them repeat in my head along with the trembling of my fingers. 

“Ha. You’re apart of the Inner Circle, aren’t you? You can ask Ser The Iron Bull and Dorian, I’m known for being skittish around you types,” I say shakily, not looking back. 

“Oh?”

That’s a trap. 

Y’know, it’d be real dramatic if I said “Ir’abelas, but I really must be going,” wouldn’t it?

“Scariest people in the castle. The Inquisitor attracts those types.”

I turn the handle of the door. 

He says something in Elvhen, nothing I could understand, and I determinedly open the door anyways. 

“Please stop talking to me, I think that’d be simpler for the both of us,” I say weakly, still not looking back, before I make my quick getaway. 

Wolf in sheep’s clothing stalking prey. Ugh. God I hate how much it  _ works. _

—

I feel fucking sick. Really sick. 

Not from food or something, I wouldn’t put it past someone,  _ Solas,  _ to poison my dumbass. Nauseous because I’m a step away from a panic attack and my hands won’t stop  _ shaking.  _

I step through Bull’s door without knocking, barely register him sharpening his maul, and start towards the bed. 

“Woah, you alright Jitters? You look pale.”

I feel like I’m gonna die, is how I am. 

“Fine,” I say between gritted teeth. “ _ Fine. _ ” I repeat it more for myself than him. 

There’s a gentle hand on my shoulder, and I shut my eyes tightly. 

“Hey, deep breaths,” Bull says. “You’re safe.”

“I’m never safe,” I hiss, but I lean into his touch anyways. My eyes are watering and, Aw, crap. Crying. 

Deep breaths. 

“Right now you are, sit down before you fall over,” Bull says, gently turning me and sitting me down on his bed. He sits beside me, and the mattress dips with his weight. 

“Where are you?” Bull asks, probably trying to ground me. 

“In your room,” I say shakily trying to  _ breathe  _ fuck it all. 

“You ever been hurt in here?” Bull asks. 

I shake my head, stomach rolling. 

“You’re safe, Jitters, whatever you’re scared of can’t go through me, alright?” Bull says soothingly, a big hand on my small shoulder. 

God, the idea of Bull fighting an Ancient Elvhen  _ god- _

Shut the fuck  _ up _ brain. Breathe. Breathe.  **_Breathe_ ** . 

I’m safe. I’m safe, and nothing bad has happened to me in here yet. 

I let out a little sob. “I’m so tired of fighting my brain all the time.”

This environment turned my fairly normal anxiety into a fucking supernova that won’t ever shut the fuck up, mixed with idle self hate. It’s not healthy, and I’m so so  _ tired.  _

“Yeah, I get it,” Bull says, and it’s more comforting I think than “ _ oh you’ll be fine, you can get through this, just FUCKING power through Kay sweetie? _ ”

I don’t make it through a single day without fucking worrying about people who either don’t know me or barely know me. What right do I have to have a say in their lives? It’s none of my fucking business!

I take deep breaths, steadying myself with Bull’s hand on me and forcing my brain to just. Not. Do whatever this is. 

I sniffle, and wipe stray tears away from my cheeks and eyes with my palms. 

“That wasn’t attractive at all,” I say dully, voice still wet. 

“Being overwhelmed like that usually isn’t,” Bull says beside me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

No. I don’t. Because you’d hand me over to the Spymaster and then I’d have my nails plucked out before I say shit. 

“I lost everything at that stupid fucking conclave,” I decide on, because it’s right. “And I’m constantly reminded of my inadequacies with every second breath. At least I’m not dead yet.”

When there’s nothing else, at least you’re not dead yet. As long as you can survive, you can live. 

“Well, yeah, there’s that,” Bull says, gruffly. “Qun would just send you to the reeducators for shit like this, but I can try to help?”

That’s sweet, in a mildly terrifying way. 

“Haven’t I already asked enough of you?” I ask wryly. “The panic attacks have to be getting old.”

“Nah, Jitters, I don’t mind.”

Of course you don’t. Because you’re good, probably better than me for actually being able to make change, but you’re good. So, so good. 

“When you try and convince people to use the The in the front of your name, you’re trying to convince yourself too,” I say before I can stop myself. “If you say it enough, you can really convince yourself that you’re okay with being a tool for the Qun.”

We’re silent for a moment. A bated breath.

“That supposed to scare me away from helping you, Jitters?” Bull asks dryly. 

I sniffle. “I don’t know what  _ anything _ I say is  _ supposed _ to do. Words are just words,” I say, matching his tone. 

Another silent moment. 

“After I left Seheron I was like you, but more apathetic,” Bull says. “I think being around other people helped.”

Creating safe spaces with people I trust. Kind of hard when I don’t trust just about anyone, here. 

“You wanna get introduced to the rest of the Chargers? They’re good guys, like Krem.” So he noticed how I quickly categorized Krem as safe, I wish I were better at hiding my faces. 

“I thought you didn’t do feelings with people you fuck?” I ask. “Isn’t this like going to meet your family?”

Bull shrugs. “People I fuck usually don’t need that.”

That could mean anything. Great. 

“Can I just, sit here, and pretend everything is fine for a couple minutes?”

“Sure, Jitters.”

At least I’m not a mage. Everything probably would’ve gotten a fuck ton more complicated if I shot fire out of my ass. 

—

The Chargers are loud. But, in a good way?

“Chargers, this is Jitters, Jitters, these are my Chargers,” Bull says, patting a hand down on my shoulder. 

There’s a chorus of greetings, curious eyes on me, and suddenly I’m seated in the center of it in the Chargers’ camp. 

“Glad to see you dont look like you’ve lost a fight this time,” Krem says in greeting. 

“Oh, the day is still young,” I say sarcastically. “And for your information I didn’t lose that fight, I’m not the one who got an arrow to the throat.”

From there I’m just mingling with the Chargers. Complimenting Dalish’s “bow”, because it’s  _ definitely  _ a bow, which leads into a conversation about her ways of using…  _ archery _ , and the Dalish way of teaching…  _ archery _ . 

“Usually a lot of meditating, then you go to a clearing and see what element comes out the easiest. I’m talking about arrows, of course,” Dalish says, leaned back in her seat. 

“Of course. I hear Dalish archers are very good at avoiding demons, too,” I go along half grinning. 

“Oh yeah. Only a shit keeper gets their archers possessed, shows they’re bad at teaching control,” Dalish says with a wave of her hand. 

“There’s two of them now,” Krem says gravely. 

“Archers?” I ask innocently. “I can only shoot things that aren’t moving, so no, sorry.”

Krem groans. 

“I’d show you some tricks, but you know. Old Dalish secrets,” Dalish says. 

I nod solemnly. “Of course.”

Overall, it’s going great. 

—

I was hoping I wouldn’t have to hav this debate. 

“It’s not a debate, Dorian, it’s inherently unethical to own people,” I state. “You can not possibly come up with a strong argument in favor of it.”

“Here poverty is inescapable, with slavery a man can sell himself to ensure his needs are cared for,” Dorian argues. 

“ _ No.  _ No, Dorian. That’s not how slavery fucking works and you know it,” I hiss. “It’s worse than poverty, than hungry aching, because suddenly another person has the ability to brutalize you whenever they feel like it.”

“There are some cases-“

“You are apart of the privileged few who have never experienced that specific kind of suffering, Dorian, you  _ don’t know _ ,” I cut him off quickly. “Who’s going to stop a man from keeping a woman in his basement and raping her whenever he feels like? Because that’s a direct example, that’s a thing that actually happened.”

Thomas Jefferson can suck my dick and choke on it. 

“You aren’t from Tevinter, how could you possibly know?” Dorian asks. 

“Because I know  _ people _ , Dorian, and people are corrupted with unchecked power.” I run a tired hand down my face. “Slavery as an institution is inherently immoral from the beginning of its use, people taken into servitude as spoils of war. The only way to improve from here would be to abolish it.”

“And what will they do after they are free, Jane? Suddenly gain jobs? They will only be impoverished again,” Dorian says with a shake of his head. 

“Oh you stupid,  _ stupid _ beautiful man, poverty is a solveable problem with education, but we can’t get there until people stop owning other people!” I say throwing my hands into the air. 

It’s not his fault, it’s inherent bias born of how he was raised,  _ do not pop him in the mustache _ -

“And frankly, poverty is something I would take over indentured servitude to people who think of me as less than.”

With a grimace, we go to an uncomfortable silence. 

“I’m not trying to attack you for the sins of your people,” I say slowly, glancing over at the stiff man. “But I think better of you then to let you think slavery is this acceptable lesser evil.”

“I’m more annoyed, I think, that none of your points are wrong,” Dorian says with a sigh. 

“It’s hard to confront being wrong about something,” I say simply, shrugging. 

“I wonder how the world creates someone with such strong morals as you, and places her in a situation where she is left unheard,” Dorian says. 

“I’m not special, thinking all people inherently deserve some sort of respect isn’t particularly revolutionary,” I say dryly. The light through the window hits Dorian really nicely. 

Dorian chuckles. “Of course you would think as much!”

It’s  _ not _ revolutionary, except here maybe it is. 

People deserve to be treated like people, is that so hard? Honestly? Who fucking cares where they’re from or the shape of their bodies or who they love or fucking  _ anything _ , people are people. They deserve respect until they prove they don’t. 

For example, Corypheus. He deserves slow evisceration. 

We settle back into the usual subjects, though, with the exception of a few tentative questions from Dorian on how education would work on a state scale. 

“Well, you already have Circles. Just start a free public education system for the masses, math, science, language,” I say with a shrug. “It’s take years to bring it up from just math and reading to more complex stuff like trade classes and shit, but it’d get there.”

Dorian looks at me keenly. “How are you so certain?”

Because I went through the hell that is public school, and I can, in fact, read at least. Dunno  _ shit _ about advanced algebra, but I can do averages. Usually. On a good day. 

I shrug. “It just makes sense.”

There’s no other answer I can really give, other than “my old world was so so much older than yours and I had the privilege of benefiting from that”, and that wouldn’t go over well. At all. 

“That is what people say when they’re hiding things,” Dorian says. “But fine, fine, keep your secrets.” He waves a hand at me. 

I somehow keep my anxiety spike from causing heart palpitations. That’s an improvement for me. 

—

“So, minstrel,” Bull says. 

I take a drink of my ale, face unimpressed. 

“I don’t do anything for free,” I declare. 

He tosses me a sovereign, and I’m glad Maryden isn’t here to critique me this very second. 

Without missing a beat-

“When a humble bard, graced a ride along, with Lavellan of Marches, along came this song!”

Checkmate, bitches, I’m fucking prepared. I rewrote that whole ass song, had it stuck in my head for two weeks straight, no one can stop me. 

—

I underestimated the popularity of Toss a Coin to Your Herald. Greatly. 

The tune is catchy, no matter the slightly edited words, and now people are singing it in the tavern often enough that I want to toss myself into the shadow realm. 

The unintended effect, though, was people tossing coins at me when I sing it. It’s a very very nice effect. Thank  _ you _ Jaskier.

“What, did you think I was bluffing?” I ask Bull, arms crossed. 

“Definitely not now, nice pipes, Jitters,” Bull says with a half grin. “When did you have the time to write a song about our Inquisitor?”

I shrug. 

“It’s been five months, I couldn’t be reading and serving the whole time,” I say. 

Just hope he doesn’t ask for a new song too soon, because I only know some songs from musicals, The Gorillaz and Sweater Weather and I don’t know how I’d swing those yet. 

—

The Winter Palace and Adamant came in quick succession, but what no one gets is how fucking  _ much _ the Inquisitor has to get done. And it all takes time. 

So, as is, I dunno how soon the next story beat us coming, and that’s anxiety inducing in itself. 

I have other things to worry about, though, presently. 

“So, do you go by Jane or Jitters?” Varric Tethras asks. 

“You have a nickname thing, don’t you?” I ask, less nervous than usual. Varric is in the safe category, he wouldn’t stab a random servant girl-  _ woman.  _ “I have a feeling my answer won’t matter either way.”

Varric laughs. “Got me there. So, you’re the one who wrote Toss a Coin?” 

Haha. No. But technically yes here. 

“Technically it was by a bard named Jaskier, and it was about a Witcher, but yes, I had to change a lot for it to fit,” I say dryly, going for honesty. 

“Oh ho ho, and how does Jaskier feel about this?” Varric asks. 

“He’s probably too busy giving said Witcher loving looks to care,” I say, even drier. 

“Yep, knew it when I saw you in Orlais, you’ve got a story, Jitters,” Varric says, leaning back in his chair. Must he accost me in the main hall? Near nobles?

“I’m probably the least interesting person in this castle,” I say. “I don’t understand why you people keep saying that.”

“That’s exactly what a person says when they’ve got a real juicy story,” Varric says, waving me off with an easy smile. So easy I’m suspicious of it. 

“I ran around with minstrels as a teen, if that sates your curiosity?”

Honestly, looking back with hindsight, the kids I was friends with as a teen definitely counted. Normal people don’t climb to the school roof for the right “ambiance” for their bagpipe. 

Yes. I knew a girl who played a bagpipe. No, she was not in any way Scottish. Yes, she could crush someone’s windpipe if pressed. 

Aw, maybe my life was always not normal and I just deluded myself into thinking it was. God fucking damnit. 

“Come on, Jitters, take a seat, I think we have much to discuss,” Varric says, patting the seat next to his at his table. 

Alright, brain, excuses?

Forgot to take our fish on a walk. 

Great. Still useless as always. 

“Oh no, you’re not getting free content out of me,” I say, unimpressed. “Coins first, then I spill.”

“Aw, come on, not even for Varric Tethras? Storyteller extraordinar?”

My face doesn’t drop. He sighs, hands me some coins, and I take a seat. 

“Whatever would you like to know, Ser Tethras?” I ask, now smiling pleasantly. 

“What’s the original song for Toss a Coin to your Herald?” Varric asks. 

“Toss a Coin to your Witcher,” I say easily. “Jaskier and Gerald of Rivia got attacked on a road by a goatman and a few elven refugees, Jaskier proceeded to say in his song the Witcher fought off an army of elves.”

“A goatman? As in a goat and a man put together?” Varric asks, incredulous. 

“The time after the Blight was weird for everyone,” I say with a shrug. 

Oh lying, how terribly easy you are when I get entertainment out of it. Pretending to know a dude from the Witcher series is definitely weird, but honestly, might as well. 

“Noted. What’s a Witcher?” Varric asks. 

“Think Warden, but super powered and probably traumatized,” I say dully. “I didn’t ask many details, he was a scary fucker.”

“You’re pulling my leg.”

“Nope. Watched him slice blighted monsters apart like paper. His eyes would glow fucking purple.”

“Well, I guess I did pay you to spin a story.”

“Aw, come on, I haven’t even told you about my friend who played the flute, he was a hoot!”

“Alright alright, entertain away, Jitters.”

—

I dreamt about getting stabbed last night. How comforting my dreams are lately. 

I stare up at the ceiling, Bull quietly laying beside me. 

“The boss is taking me and the Chargers out to the Storm Coast, in a couple days.”

Oh fuck. Oh no. 

“What for?” I ask, hoping I’m wrong. 

“It’ll be common knowledge however it works out by the time we get back, but,” Bull grunts. “Qun wants to ally with the Inquisition.”

Terror. This is terror. I’m familiar enough with it. 

“Do you want them to?” I ask instead. 

Bull grunts again. 

“Complicated.”

I nod, looking up at the sky above us. He really should fix that. 

“It’s different when they’re over there. Harder to forget that you’re still a piece of it when you’re here,” I murmur. “I get it.”

“Do you?” Bull asks, and I can feel his gaze on me. 

I shrug. “I’m good at this stuff.”

We’re silent again, I’m left with my fast beating heart and him with his thoughts. 

“Would you choose an alliance?” 

Not the question I was expecting. 

I shake my head. 

“The Qun is for the Qun. They don’t do alliances as far as I can tell. Whatever this would be, it wouldn’t ever change that,” I say quietly. “I just hope they don’t invade.”

I do. Desperately hope that what little tips I’ve anonymously given on people I thought could be Qun hiding as Servants meant something, could prevent the Inquisition from falling apart. 

And I have given them. I can play pretend like I’m powerless but I can do  _ some _ things.

Bull makes a noise that clearly means he doesn’t want to think about that ever happening, because he’s more Bull than Hissrad at this point, but he’s definitely at the tipping point for one side or another. 

God I hope the Inquisitor does what she’s supposed to. 

“I don’t know, just, keep your Chargers safe while you’re there, Ser. The blood of the covenant will always be thicker than the water of the womb, and all that shit.” Found family first, the family you choose. 

“You’re an anomaly, Jitters,” Bull grumbles instead of anything else. “What, you don’t trust me to take care of my own Chargers?”

“I don’t trust that you will put them first instead of the Qun, unless pressed.”

I roll off his bed and look for where I threw my clothes, the cold mountain air biting at my skin. 

Bull just watches me silently as I get dressed. I don’t say anything else, until I get to the door, pausing. 

“Come back, Bull, and come back  _ as _ Bull.”

I leave. I don’t hyperventilate this time, even if my hands do tremble and I have to crouch down somewhere quiet. 

I just had to pick the fucking spy to have sex with, huh?

Oh let’s ride the Bull! It’ll be fun! Which, I mean, it was and is, but I’m now much more concerned for him than I was before, and I’m much more concerned for the Chargers, and I don’t want him to come back with those false smiles and say “it is what is is, Bas” to the Inquisitor-

Fuck me. 

—

I don’t talk to Bull before he leaves, I’ve said what I need to. But he leaves nonetheless.

“You’re acting like a forlorn lover,” Revis says. 

I don’t look up from my book, one quickly pilfered from the mysterious magic library room before I sprinted away. 

“Haven’t a clue what you’re talking about, I’m perfectly lorn,” I say blandly, flipping a page. 

“Lorn is not a word,” Revis says dryly. 

“It is, and it means the exact same thing as forlorn, but that’s not the point,” I explain with a huff, looking over at the man. 

It’s nighttime, our time when we either banter or I read and he banters. Or he’s off, enjoying the night, which is good for him. 

“It’s that Iron Bull isn’t it? You went to meet his Chargers, didn’t you?” Revis asks, smirking. 

“You’re a nosey, nosey man, you know that?” I ask, not throwing a pillow at him only because both of mine are comfortably being used. 

“Oh I’m right, aren’t I!” Revis says, delighted. 

“I’m gonna come over there and do…  _ something _ , I’ll figure it out on the way,” I threaten with narrowed eyes. 

“You didn’t say goodbye before he left, I didn’t see you at the gates. Lovers spat?” Revis asks, because he doesn’t know when to stop. 

“Not a spat, Revis. It’s nothing,” I say. 

He gives me a look. It’s an unimpressed one that could rival my own. 

“When he comes back it’ll be fine, now drop it, Revis,” I grumble. 

“Fine fine, but if he’s upset you make sure to tell me, I have my ways.”

“Of course you do, Revis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no. Feelings. How will our poor poor protagonist cope???
> 
> (mostly by reading and pacing, but she’ll be fine, probably.)
> 
> Thoughts, feelings, did it rain today? How is the pacing making you feel?


	6. im about to start just using quotes for these bro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like how I can just ask you guys about the weather patterns you’ve experienced that day and you’ll just cheerfully tell me. I appreciate it.

Bull comes back. 

_Bull_ , not Hissrad, comes back. 

The Chargers are at his back when he does, along with the Inquisitor in front of him, Sera, and Solas. Dunno what inspired _that_ party mix but here we are. 

I let out what’s probably a relieved sigh, and before I turn to leave, Bull makes eye contact with me. 

He gestures his head towards the tavern, and I nod. 

Safe. I don’t know if what I said helped at all, but fuck. Thank god he’s not a sleeper cell anymore. 

No more worrying about that, at least. 

I step inside the tavern and wait, bold enough to take a cross legged seat in Bull’s big ass chair. 

I’m humming toss a coin by the time he comes in, spotting me with a lifted brow. 

“My room?” Bull asks. 

“Sure.”

We walk in silence, but there’s definitely some words waiting to be said in both our brains by the time we step through his door and close it. 

I take a seat on his bed and tilt my head at him. 

“So.”

Bull sighs, which is probably a lot more vulnerability than he’s shown in a week, and sits down heavily beside me. 

“How’d you know?” Bull asks, looking down at me. 

I shrug. 

“You were on the edge of it for a while, it’s probably why you got assigned out here in the first place,” I murmur. “Stuck between whoever you thought you were supposed to be and who you were becoming.”

Bull is silent. 

“ **_Shit_ ** _._ ”

There’s grief in that word. 

I slowly lay a hand on his shoulder, because he’s doubled over with his face in his hands, and-

“It’s okay to be afraid.”

It’s quiet, just barely slipping past my lips, but I think it’s a lesson the both of us need. 

“No, it’s not, I was-“ He cuts himself off with a guttural sound in his throat. “I’m Tal’Va-fucking-shoth. Do you know what that means?”

Intimately. 

“You turned your back on the Qun,” I say simply, because he needs to get this out. 

“I fucking _killed_ Tal’Vashoth in Saheron, put them down like mad dogs,” Bull says, looking up and down at me, expression fierce. “Because they _acted_ like mad dogs.”

I put a hand on his jaw, scowling. 

“Are you a mad dog, Bull?” I ask, because fucking hell he needs to understand. “I don’t know what Saheron was like, not being there personally, but are you going to go crazy just because you left the Qun?”

“I don’t _know_ what I am.”

“You’re Iron Bull, agent of the Inquisition, leader of Bull’s Chargers. You’re kind, more than you should be after surviving this long,” I say slowly. “And you’re free to be anything else you want now.”

Bull stays tense for a few moments, drawn to his full height, but slumps, never moving my steady hands. 

“Guess I am.”

I’m quiet, trying to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do from here. 

“Do you want a hug?”

A bated breath. 

“Yeah, sure, Jitters.”

—

I check on Bull more often after that. Partly because I’m just happy he’s not going to die now, partly because he needs it.

He pretends, but he’s terrified. I know terror like the back of my hand, like an old weight, I know it in another person. 

“You’re acting like a fretful Tama, Jitters,” Bull says dryly. 

“Oh you fucked your Tama, Bull?” I ask, sarcastic. “That’s messed up.”

He snorts. 

So yeah, things don’t seem to be going too bad. 

Except Grand Enchanter Vivienne seems intent on joining Dorian and I’s debates, like a lioness playing with her food. 

“And how would _you_ reform the chantry?” Vivienne asks, before taking a delicate sip of her tea. 

“I’d throw the whole thing in the trash can, honestly, but I don’t believe in the Maker so my opinion is biased,” I say with a shrug, one leg crossed over the other. 

Dorian laughs, genuinely laughs. “ _Please_ let me take you back to the Tevinter, I want to see people’s faces when you open your mouth.”

“ _Fuck_ no,” I say with a shiver. “I don’t entertain for free.”

Vivienne doesn’t roll her eyes, but it’s a close thing. “Careful, Ms. Jane, the Inquisition is a religious organization.”

“Right, run by a Dalish elf. How could I have forgotten,” I say dryly. “Frankly the whole chant has been corrupted for the gain of the priestesshood, I say you knock it all over and restart with less of an emphasis on how many golden statues of Andraste you can make, and more on helping people.”

“And how would you go about doing that?” Vivienne asks while Dorian sits on in amusement, like he’s watching a game of Tennis. “The Priestesshood, as you said, is corrupt. They would not be so open to change.”

I shrug. “I mean, I’d probably just push the Inquisition towards handling it. We have the means to take over southern Thedas if we keep going at this rate,” I say, before quickly backtracking. “Which I _wouldn’t_ , I’m speaking in hypotheticals, if certain spymasters are listening above us.”

There’s a distinct snort above us and I try not to think about it too hard. 

Vivienne looks unimpressed, Dorian looks like he’s enjoying every second of this, I want to go be normal somewhere. Like the Hinterlands. I hear it’s nice there now, besides the bears. 

“Have you always been this afraid of everything or is it a new affliction, Darling?” Vivienne asks. 

“It was fine before a hole got popped in the sky, Madame de Fer,” I say. 

“She is getting better though, she doesn’t even flinch at loud noises!” Dorian adds cheerfully. 

I give him a look. Enough said. 

“At least I’m not being dragged around the ass end of Thedas closing tears in reality,” I say blandly, and I catch the pillow he throws at me with a poked out tongue.

“Feel free to join me, my dear, I’m sure the Inquisitor would love to have Toss a Coin to your Herald follow her every move,” Dorian says with a grin. 

I blanch. 

“I don’t camp. I’ve tried,” I say, well aware that at least this time saying the Inquisitor’s name won’t bring her forth like Beatlejuice. 

I knock on the wood of the chair twice, just to be sure. 

“The things we do for the greater good,” Vivienne offers, almost as dry as I am on a daily basis. 

“Madame Vivienne, is that a _joke_ I hear?” Dorian asks, slyly. 

“I don’t _joke,_ Darling. I make statements of fact with a change of tone,” Vivienne says, lifting a well manicured eyebrow at Dorian. 

“Of course, of course. Now, did I tell you how Solas reacted the last time the Inquisitor jumped from the Rookery to the ground floor?”

This is fine. 

I knock on the wood again, just to be sure. 

—

Horses are scary. 

Now, that’s a normal reaction, they’re probably the worst built mammal around ignoring nugs, but. Still. 

“I have a message for Warden Blackwall from Lady Josephine?” I say, peaking in the barn. 

Listen, I’m good at running messages, alright? Not like, stupid good, but I like it. I don’t have to sweep or wash things or pretend that I’m ever gonna get callous. 

So, if I sometimes report to Josephine on days when I can _tell_ things are busy as fuck, that’s my business. 

I spot Blackwall with ease, turning from where he’s working on a Griffin rocker to spot me. 

“Right here,” Blackwall says, looking at me. 

So. Blackwall. Haven’t spoken to him yet before this, and now I’m suddenly very worried that he might die. 

It’ll be fine. The Inquisitor is the goodest one you could get, besides the Solvellan hell thing. I’m warming up to her ability to do shit without me. 

I resist knocking on wood. I _resist_. 

I walk over, handing him the slip of paper and looking at the carved Griffin. Fucking _cool_ bro, wish I had a skill like that, all I can do is play the drums. Which, I mean, an acceptable skill, but _still._ Wood carvings. 

“Er, that’s just,” Blackwall starts, awkward. 

“It’s cool as fuck,” I say, peering at it. “Don’t downplay your skills.” I don’t touch it, because I know that’s impolite, and look back up at Blackwall. 

“Ah, thank you,” Blackwall says, making the “awkward with a beard” face. 

Shit. He doesn’t know me. 

“Sorry, sorry. You need me to hang around for a reply?” I ask, rolling on the balls of my feet. 

Definitely feeling jittery today, probably the stupid ADHD. 

Which, I was never clinically diagnosed for, so I shouldn’t just _say_ I have it, but _still_. 

Oh fuck it, the doctors here put leaches on people, I can claim ADHD if I fucking want. 

Blackwall looks down at the note with squinted eyes. 

“Ah, yes. Just a moment,” Blackwall grumbles, walking over to another part of his working bench and picking up a piece of paper, ink and quill. 

Blegh. Ink and quills. 

I look around the area, and it definitely looks like in game, including the horses. Scary, horses. 

Which is unfair of me. I’ve ridden a horse, it was a perfectly nice horse, I just also know that one kick and those things could take my ass out. 

I wonder how healthy it is to live that close to animals?

“It may take a moment to dry,” Blackwall says awkwardly, and I look back over at him. 

I shrug. “I’m getting paid either way. Have you been making toys for the kids around here?”

I have been noticing some toys that look similar in make to the Griffin, but who knows. 

“Yes, they need something to keep them busy,” Blackwall says. “Me as well, I suppose.”

“That’s good of you, which I should’ve expected from one of the Inner Circle,” I hum. 

Man, I'm unusually talkative today. Maybe someone spiked my drink?

I wouldn’t put it past Revis. 

“Ah, I’m nobody. Just a Warden,” Blackwall says, as if they’ll convince anyone. 

I give him an unimpressed look. 

“Right, and I’m a long lost Rivani queen,” I snark. “You realize you’re half of the morale around here, right? The group of very different strangers that all came together to save the world with the Inquisitor?”

It’s true. They are. You forget when you’re looking from the savior’s perspective, but all anyone else can see is everyone, elves and dwarves and humans and Qunari coming together for something bigger than themselves. 

Oh, I’m talking normal because Blackwall is in the safe category. Huh. Wait, that might be because he looks like my dad. All beardy.

Blackwall looks terrified at the idea, I quickly backtrack. 

“Don’t think too hard about it!” I say quickly. “If I break you the Ambassador will give me her disappointed look.”

“Right,” Blackwall says. 

Well, at least I didn’t have a panic attack, most other reactions are acceptable in comparison. 

—

Shit. 

Why? Why again??

Solas gives me a look that says we both know there’s unfinished business between us, which _isn’t_ cash money. But it’s not really that look, it’s hidden by a placid smile. _Liar._

“You alright, Jitters?” Bull asks beside me. 

“Fine. Why am I here again?” I ask, covering my anxiety with a dry tone. 

“Because there’s drinks?”

What an innocent answer. I’m never stepping inside the tavern again. _Why is he here??_

“You need to step outside?” Bull asks, suddenly attentive. 

“No, I’m good, lemme just-“ I down the rest of my drink, then cough a little. “Yep. Good now.”

Drunk is good in this situation. Fuck you growing brain, might as well stunt you with the height so it matches. 

“Uh Huh,” Bull says, not believing me at all. 

Solas looks very put upon when he settles at a table with Varric, Cassandra and the Inquisitor. 

**_Scary._ **

“Right, scared of people of power,” Bull says, clearly following my gaze. “Want a distraction?”

Ehhhh. 

But, somewhere _not_ near Solas?

Nah. Not feeling it. 

“Nah, I’m good, thanks for helping though,” I say, patting his arm and taking a deep breath. Fen’heral can’t touch me unless I’m alone, so long as it’s a crowded space, I’m good!

God I hate that I liked him as a character. He infuriated me, but he was apart of the Inner Circle, so he was my responsibility. Mine, y’know? Same goes with Vivienne, since I always ended up fighting her on mage rights issues. 

Now he’s just scary, and I’m not a fan of scary. 

“No problem, Jitters.”

So we lull into comfortable silence surrounded by the loud tavern, me looking down at my book on botany and him looking out at people. 

I don’t get plants, honestly, besides the chloroplast thing, but the magical properties are new and interesting.

I spot Krem leaving with a pretty girl one of the times I look up to make sure the Inquisitor’s table isn’t coming anywhere near here, which hell yeah for him. Get it bro, and hell yeah for who I think is Yvonn that left with him. 

Blonde, soulful brown eyes, a smile that looks like it could cut. Swears more than you’d think. 

“You’re scared of Solas,” Bull observes. I squeak. 

“He’s… tall?” I offer weakly, looking up at Bull. 

He’s unimpressed. I can see it in his face. 

No I don’t imagine Solas cornering me and forcing me to tell him what I know, then killing me. Not at all. Aw shit, the hands are shaking again. 

“He do something to you?” Bull asks, tone conversational but distinctly lower, hard to hear under the noise of the tavern. 

Oh. Right. Elf ears. Smart. 

“He has bad vibes,” I offer again, grimacing and matching his voice level. “He’s just- he’s not what he seems. I can tell.”

Bull looks at me seriously for a moment, before nodding and putting up his normal small twist of his lips. 

“Got it. Tell me if he bothers you.”

Oh that’s quite nice. I don’t know why I keep getting surprised when people are nice to me. 

“Thanks, Bull.”

“No problem, Jitters.”

Of course, that’s when Varric wanders up. 

“Hey, you haven’t met the Inquisitor yet, right Jitters?”

Oh FUCK no. 

“ _No,_ ” I declare vehemently, shaking my head quickly. 

Varric lifts his eyebrows in surprise. 

“She’s scared of authority,” Bull explains easily, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Breathe, Jitters, breathe.”

Do not hyperventilate. Do _not_. 

“ **_Scary_ **,” I declare intelligently. 

“She’s really not that bad?” Varric offers. 

“She sits on a _throne,_ ” I hiss, very concerned. “How many well adjusted people sit on _thrones_??”

“She has a point,” Bull says, because he’s a saint. 

“You know her, Tiny,” Varric says dryly. 

“Still a good point. I think Jitters might faint if she talks to Boss,” Bull says. 

“ _Exactly_ ,” I say, focused on keeping my breathing steady. 

“Well, she’s already coming over,” Varric says and _oh no._

“So this is the lady I can blame for Toss a Coin to your Herald?”

“Oh god,” I whisper, covering my face with my hands. 

I’m dying. Take me away, Jesus. 

“Well, I’ve never incited _that_ reaction before,” Inquisitor Lavellan comments. 

“Jitters is scared when she isn’t being sarcastic, Boss. She’ll warm up if she doesn’t pass out.” 

“Bold of you to assume I can’t be _both,_ ” I hiss, trying to fucking _breathe._

Bull’s rubbing my shoulder reassuringly as he talks shit, because he’s nice like that. 

“Am I really this intimidating?” Lavellan asks. 

“Probably, but Jitters is just like that,” Varric says. 

Everything in the world is _not_ going to go wrong if you talk to Inquisitor Lavellan, do _not_ pass out, I _forbid_ it. 

“What a kind way of saying I’m a natural nervous _wreck_ ,” I grumble, forcing myself to sit up straight and distinctly ignore the tremble in my hands. “Hello, my name is Jane, thank you for saving the world.”

“Revasulahn Lavellan, now Herald and Inquisitor,” Lavellan introduces with an amused quirk of her lips. 

She’s pretty, Dirthamen vallaslin on her cheeks, a tan, and brown hair. A normal person when you ignore the fact that she’s the person everyone is trusting to save them. 

“Well met. Ignore me, I wasn’t this bad before the sky got a hole popped through it,” I say, offering a weak grin. 

“Weren’t we all?” Revasulahn asks wryly. “If you’re this scared, why did you write a song about me?”

“It was a bit on the fly, Inquisitor,” I say, before gesturing to Bull. “This one wanted to hear a song and I couldn’t think of anything else. I’m not sorry for how it gets stuck in the head.”

See? See, everything is _fine._ Just _fine._

“At least it’s positive, I’m sure others are coming up with less flattering songs,” Revasulahn says with a shrug. 

Yeah, but you don’t know the pain of toss a coin to your Witcher bro. 

“There is that.”

“So, how is it you seem to have most of my companions but not me? Besides the scared bits,” Lavellan asks and oh god she’s gonna grill me for all she can isn’t she? That’s what the Inquisitor is. Nosy and with too many questions. 

“I’m a servant, trusted enough to handle things near you people. After I met Bull it was downhill from there,” I say, dryly. 

“Hey now, you didn’t complain last night,” Bull says with a little grin, the ass. 

“That’s an exception, _Ser_. Not the standard.”

“Ouch, Jitters. Ouch.”

“Aw, did I hurt the big muscle man’s feelings?” I ask sarcastically. 

“Wait, are you two…?” Lavellan trails off. 

“Fucking? Definitely,” I say, pretending my heart isn’t still beating too fast. 

“I thought the Qunari didn’t-“

“I’m not Qunari, anymore, Boss,” Bull corrects, voice carefully not. Well. Fuck, what’s the word? Impartial. He sounds impartial.

It’s a lie. I’m the dude who drifts into half sleep while he holds me because that’s what he needs. I would know. 

Wait, she thinks-?

Oh. _Oh._

“There’s a story here,” Varric says, probably steering the conversation away from the touchy subject. 

“Bull walked in on a panic attack when I was cleaning his room, guess everything’s gone from there?” 

I mean, I dunno. It doesn’t feel like a lot but I also don’t worry about Bull hurting me on orders now so that’s good. 

“You gave me absolutely no details, Jitters,” Varric says. 

“Good, I don’t want to become your next raunchy romance protagonist,” I snark. 

“Fine, I’ll just make it up as I go.”

“I want royalties, and you never talk about my ‘heaving bosoms’.”

“Done.”

—

Do you ever just… not wanna get up. 

Not in the bad way! Just in the too comfy to move way. 

I don’t know when post-coital cuddling became a thing, probably between Bull coming back and the need to reassure himself that he’s not turning into a monster just because he’s left the Qun. 

But it did. And with my back pressed up against Bull’s chest and his heavy arm thrown over me, I’m wary to lose it. 

I don’t know relationships, I had a total of one boyfriend in Highschool and that’s only because I wanted to try it out, not because there were soft butterflies in my stomach and a pining for the carnal. 

I feel safe. Honestly? That’s enough for me. Whether this ends tomorrow or not, I feel safe now. That’s okay with me. 

There’s a soft brush of lips to my hair, and a murmured “ _Kadan_ ,” and suddenly, I’m blindsided. It sounds even to my ears like he’s just trying it out on the tip of his tongue, testing the feel of the words on his lips and he might _mean it._

Dumbass. 

I don’t leave when I hear it, I barely move except a little closer. 

_Dumbass._

I should. 

I should _not._ I should absolutely not. Because I deserve to be happy, and fuck it, the world is gonna end by ancient elvhen god in a few years anyways. _Fuck it._

What about Dorian?

He can handle himself, he’s a grown man who’s building his own support system, and if he wants in on Bull I’d happily share. 

Which doesn’t mean I think of Bull as a piece of meat to be shared! Oh god. 

“You’re thinking loud,” Bulls rumbles behind me. 

“Nuh uh,” I mumble, reaching to clutch Bull’s warm arm close. “Thoughts can’t be loud.”

Bull chuckles. “Still a terrible liar.”

Well, yeah, that’s true. 

I don’t ask him what Kadan means. He’ll go at his own pace. 

—

Shit shit shit. 

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. 

“You do not have to hide alone when you are scared!” Cole whispers, like I don’t already know that. 

“Trust is,” a deep breath, “for _losers._ ”

It’s not, but it really really is. I thought too hard about the knowing everything thing again, like a _dumbass_ , even though I know it sets me off. Every. Fucking. Time. 

“You say one thing and mean another,” Cole says, gently rubbing my shoulders. “You are safe, no one is going to hurt you.”

“You fucking, _say_ , that,” I say through breaths. “But you, haven’t read as much, _fanfiction_ , as _me_!”

“That was pretend, this is real,” Cole says. “They like you. _Kadan, Jitters, she’s too tiny, I should have her learn daggers at least._ ”

That’s his Bull voice. 

What if I get-

“They are very strong, you won’t get them killed,” Cole reassures. “Breathe.”

So I breathe. 

I’m fucking tired of this. There’s no _point._ I’m at least acquaintances with most of the Inner Circle now, I _know_ them. Why am I so fucking _weird??_

“It’s not your fault,” Cole says, because of course he does. 

“I feel like it is,” I say, because I do. 

“Revasulahn is doing better than you had expected! They will all come out safe.”

“What about her arm? What about letting her get with fucking-,” I don’t say his name. Not even here with the reassurance that we are alone. 

“ _She_ chose, you are not at fault for her choice.”

“But isn’t inaction just as bad?” I ask, sounding a touch desperate even to my ears. 

“No. They would not have listened to you before,” Cole says with a solemn shake of his head. 

Somehow the knowledge that I’ve been panicked and they wouldn’t have even listened to me doesn’t comfort me. Shocker. 

Wait. 

“Before?”

“You are their friend.”

That says a lot and nothing at all at the same time. 

Oh look, I’m not dying of panic anymore. That’s. Good. 

“How suspicious is Kah?” I ask, instead of using his real name. Because I’m the nerd who learned a little Dovahzuul for funsies just before this _mess._

“You don’t feel like the rest. A sea of tranquil,” Cole says and _oh god that’s terrifying._

“I’m the only person who feels _real_ to him?!” I ask, feeling the panic climb again. 

“Oh I said the wrong thing, I shouldn’t have answered,” Cole frets, fumbling with his hands before settling on gently hugging me. 

Oh. That’s actually kind of comforting. He’s boney, though he needs _food._

“I am not human enough?” Cole says, confusion coating his tone. 

“No! God no, you’re Cole, and whatever you chose is fine with me, but I just. Worry,” I grumble holding him. 

I want for him to grow, like a person, but that’s up to him. It’s his life. If he wants to be Compassion, then he can be. If he wants to be Cole, he can be. 

Oh. He distracted me. Aw, nice of him- wait, fuck, _no._ Not nice. **_Solas_ **. 

“As long as I’m near people, Kah won’t come near me, right?” I ask, backing out of the hug enough to make eye contact with Cole. 

“Probably?”

Well. Alrighty then.

“I will walk with you. To help,” Cole says, apparently coming to a decision. 

There’s no way that could ever go wrong. 

—

It’s going wrong. 

“Cole, _spiders._ ”

“They like their home!”

“They will _bite_ people.”

“Not if they are left alone. You feel bad for them!”

“They aren’t sentient, and therefore I have to limit how bad I can feel. You can move them somewhere else if you want?”

“Then I would leave you.”

A deep sigh. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels choppier than usual to me, and I didn’t hit the 5000 mark, but I’m also aware that sometimes the story just wants to come out the way it wants and I don’t control that. So yeah.
> 
> Thoughts? Feelings? Would you like to see the separate chapter I wrote for if Bull came back as Hissrad? How do you feel about mandatory mask wearing?

**Author's Note:**

> do you know how many books i should be updating?
> 
> *procrastinates*


End file.
